Star Wars KOTOR II: Catharsis
by Dante-Raven
Summary: Set a year after KOTOR II: Revan & the Exile are fighting the Sith threat out in the Unknown Regions. Sequel to Way of the Force. The Epilogue. Thank you all for reading!
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: All right, I told you all that I'd work on a sequel to _Way of the Force_. Well, here it is, roughly a year after the events of _The Sith Lords_, the Jedi Orderhas practically beenwiped out. There are few Jedi in the Galaxy trying to rebuild the Order, yet many remain in hiding--and of course,a dark presence islooming over the horizon. You'll see some familiar faces-- both from my story and from the KOTOR Games. Anyway,I hope you all enjoy it. Now, may I present _Star Wars KOTOR II: Catharsis_...**

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Star Wars: Catharsis

_Prologue _

_Everywhere there is nothing but destruction, hypocrisy and the rank scent of death all throughout the Galaxy. Some may think we won, but I know now that is only the talk of the arrogant, foolish and most of all-- ignorant. We had lost. The Galaxy had found itself plunged into an eternal war it would never walk away from. It was ravaged, torn and won't heal. Not now, not for a long time. Exar Kun had ravaged the galaxy, using the Mandalorians and his fallen brethren to reduce the ranks of the Jedi Order. _

_We won, he lost. _

_40 years after that, the Mandalorians had invaded. Revan and Malak had defied the will of the Jedi Order-- the Council was not eager to participate in another strife that would span the Outer Rim and some parts of the Inner Rim. Revan and Malak. The saviours of the Galaxy. They made the call for Jedi to stand up and fight for that which was the mandate of the Jedi. Few answered the call. The Jedi had joined the war. _

_I know now, that despite the havoc and chaos the Mandalorians wrought upon the Galaxy, Revan and Malak brought it back to them, tenfold, renewing an endless cycle of mayhem. War had touched us all. War had twisted the desires, the honour, the very being that the Jedi had stood for. The Jedi who fought in the war left known space, only to return to us all 4 years later. We thought they were heroes. Who didn't? These Jedi had rallied the broken mass that was Republic forces and they had decimated the Mandalorians. _

_They restored peace and order to the Galaxy. At least for a time. 4 years was the price we paid for our ignorance. War had twisted the Jedi that participated in the war. The heroes had become the conquerors. Revan was the head of the mighty armada that arrived at the fringe. Revan, was the Lord of the Sith. The armada, constructed of alien vessels from an ancient starbase-- the Starforge--, had become the enemy. Telos was wiped out, along with several other worlds like Taris. Our allies had betrayed us; they were the new Sith Empire. _

_The Jedi Civil War-- the third one, or the fourth or umpteenth-- had begun. Jedi fought against former brothers and sisters. Friends, brothers, sisters, lovers, mentors. We fought for so much. We found our friends corrupt. We were the light. This war represented a failure to understand the teachings that tried to tell us that our power must be limited. With our power left unchecked, we could destroy everything around us-- eventually killing the Force and ourselves in the process. Light waged against the Dark. _

_The will of the Force declares that there must be a balance. The Jedi thought that they could restore balance. The Sith thought they could control everything. They were wrong. After Malak's death, the Sith empire crumbled. There was no strong leader-- Revan had seen to that. Revan had been betrayed by his former apprentice. Such is the way of the Sith. Balance of the Force was unlikely. Too much had already been lost. _

_No one knows what became of Revan. I know, like most other Jedi who knew the former Dark Lord, Revan left for the Outer Rim. Revan left to fight a war on his own. The rest of us were left here, to fend for ourselves. _

_We failed. _

_Darths Sion and Nihilus launched a cold war against the Jedi. The remaining Jedi were either killed, went into hiding or were just never seen again. I left the Order before this would eventually happen. The Jedi had lost the alternative to restoring balance. Before my friend left me, he told me that the future of the Jedi--no, the future of the Galaxy itself-- lay upon a select few, including myself. I know that by rebuilding the Order with the concept of this 'unifying' Force won't be easy. I know that by finding fellow Jedi and initiates, I will leave myself open to attack by the agents of those who have sewed the seeds of dissent and chaos. If I am to help unite the Galaxy, the Republic-- and the Jedi Order-- may have to fall completely. _

_Perhaps in 30, or 3000 years--as the Force may will it-- we will have learned from our mistakes in our arrogant methods of teaching. _

_I know we became arrogant, proud and strict. Few Masters had true successors, who followed a variant of the path that was the unifying Force. _

_We can't serve the Republic. We can't be thrown into the mundane. We are all servants of the Force. Dark, Light, Neutral; those are all terms wherein we open ourselves to a part of the Force. Even those who elect to remain neutral do not completely serve the Force. We began as a meditative order, eager to understand our own perception of what the Force is; what this entity that binds us all is and what it has in mind for us all. The Force is not energy. We are the Force and as we continue to kill each other and create echoes through the Force, we will only continue to destroy the Galaxy and continually renew this cycle. The Force makes life a gamble, especially during these times. Sooner or later, we all lose. _

_- Dante Ravenmoon_

* * *

He couldn't stop running. No matter where he was, she was there waiting for him. He had tried to make a stand, fighting her with his emerald blade. No matter where he hit her, she shrugged it off harmlessly. Someone had definitely taken their time crafting a suit of strategically placed lightweight _cortosis_ armour. Even the gauntlets had it. 

The only visible vulnerability was the head. She had raven hair that had come up to her shoulders. Her hair covered her icy blue and green eyes. A scar ran down her left eye. It seemed to be a paler shade of green, compared to the cold blue eye on her right. She fought him with her retractable wristblades.

He'd been slashed across his left arm, when he blocked her left blade and failed to anticipate her other blade flying towards his jugular vein. As he spun around, he brought his blade to slice through her forearm.

No such luck; more cortosis. Growling, he shoved her through the Force and tried to run. She pulled him back through the Force as well.

She enjoyed toying with him. He would not escape her alive, at the very least. As he fell to the ground, she flew high into the air and brought herself down, aiming at the man's face.

He rolled away and felt the shockwave of the impact on the ground where his head had been a few moments earlier.

He brought himself to his feet and reached out for his weapon. Feeling the weapon in his hand, he ignited his lightsaber and brought it down to bear on her head. She effortlessly jumped back, her hands reaching for something on either side of her hips. Lightsabers.

Smiling, she strafed to her left, dodging the brutish cleave from the Jedi. He wanted to get to her before she produced her lightsabers. He was a moment too late. He heard the distinct _snap-hiss_ of both lightsabers and saw her tempting him to come to her.

Suddenly, the alley where they had this showdown had grown much smaller. Knowing he could not defeat her, he still had to try. If he failed, there was no doubt in his mind that many more of his scattered brethren would fall to her. Charging at her with his blade aimed for her neck, she crouched lower.

She was poised to strike.

As he came closer to her, she leaped into a twirl, smacking his blade away from him while her lightsabers sliced through the unfortunate Jedi.

He fell in 4 pieces. His torso, midsection, right arm and legs hit the ground. The blades had instantly cauterized the wounds, not even spilling a drop of blood. He didn't even grunt when the blades passed through him.

She had landed on her feet, still in her crouched fighting form. She continued to smile, chuckling to herself lightly. Deactivating the blades, she clipped it to her belt. She threw her cloak over her hips to prevent her weapons from giving herself away.

Walking over to the body, she brought the Jedi's face forward, eager to look at the horrified face of the dead man. Eager to watch his expression of curiousity as to what happened. His pale skin only added to the idea of lost blood. She touched his chest, bringing her hand to run down it, closer to the lost right arm. She stopped at the stub and noticed the hand. The lightsaber was still activated. It's hum continued to reveal the emerald blade that hadn't even threatened the woman. She touched the lightsaber and deactivated it. Pulling it away from the cold iron clasp of the hand, she brought the lightsaber hilt into her cloak, a trophy so she could admire the Jedi she had enjoyed stalking.

There was one Jedi whom she was most anxious to see. He had left her a mark she would never forget. Her only wish was that no one had gotten to him before she would. She couldn't help but smile. He was a rare catch indeed. He would be alive. She had heard some sightings of a Jedi who walked in the backalleys of Coruscant. The slums and underground civilizations that formed the backbone of life throughout the city-planet. She was close to the jeweled center of the Galaxy.

The back alleys of Corellia were not as different as those of Coruscant. In time, he would find her, and she would enjoy her time with him, the Jedi who brought down her dreams of becoming the Empress. For now, she would continue to hunt the Jedi on this planet, squeezing them for information. This one had been sport, nothing more. The real prize lay waiting for her on Coruscant.


	2. The Endangered

_The Endangered _

_Everywhere I go, I see nothing but death and decay_, he thought to himself. He wore a long black duster that swirled around him as he stood on the balcony, admiring the long starscraper buildings that loomed overhead. Coruscant, the jewel of the Galaxy was considered to be an entire city on a planetary scale. For all intents and purposes, it was. The planet continued to be a symbol for the stagnating Republic. It had only been 6-7 years since the defeat of Darth Malak and the Sith Empire. It had certainly been no victory.

The Sith Empire had effectively destroyed itself after the war; there had been no strong leader to rally the divided groups of Sith. The Sith were nothing but a remnant in an unforgettable nightmare. Unlike the Empire, however, the Sith were not yet defeated. The Jedi had lost. By the war's end, barely a hundred Jedi remained, where there were a thousand. The Sith had begun to covertly hunt down the Jedi, dwindling their numbers. The Jedi had become helpless pawns, fighting for their own survival. 2 years after the war, the Jedi had disbanded. The Jedi Temple had become a tomb. The Thousand Fountains had stopped running. The Jedi Order was effectively gone.

Time had grown longer as the Republic was forced to rebuild itself, trying to recover from the losses of the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War itself. The looming leviathan that was the Sith had become a fledgling cluster of star systems. There had been a recent assault on the reconstruction efforts on the planet Telos, one of the first planets to be destroyed by the Sith in the beginning of the war. As it turned out, a small group of Jedi—along with the help of _Admiral _Carth Onasi—defeated the Sith incursion. They had prevented a disastrous situation from escalating into a massacre.

The only Jedi representatives located within the upper echelons of the Republic were Bastila, a survivor from the battle of the Starforge; Atris, a Master hidden within the depths of Telos itself; and a small group of rogue Jedi that resided in the central tower of the Jedi Temple.

This particular group of Jedi had found a way to devote themselves to the belief of an all-embracing Force, while helping the Republic rebuild. They only took the missions that required the skills of the Jedi. After all, they were keepers of the peace. The Force had become more embracing, uniting those who may inevitably heal the Force. The war had affected everyone—including the Force; its impact would affect the Galaxy for decades to come.

He moved away from the balcony, entering inside the room, where he could find his way to the exit. He wanted to leave the Temple, if only for a little while. _A walk would do me good_, he thought. He walked through the silent halls; the darkened corridors did nothing to disturb the silence that was the Jedi Temple. He made his way towards the entrance, eager to leave, when he noticed three forms waiting in front of him. One was a droid, the other was a T-headed Ithorian and the final form was the largest—and most ruffled—of the three: a wookiee.

"Going out for a midnight walk, Dante?" The Ithorian asked the man. Dante only smiled.

"Care for some companions that can't sleep as well?" The wookiee growled.

He looked at his companions, remembering how far they had come in the last 5 years. Too many had left, too many had tried to get rid of Dante and the teachings he had acquired through the holocron device known as the 'Unifier.' The Jedi Order—or what was left of it—decided to disband, ignoring Dante's plea that the unifying Force was something they needed in order to survive.

Unfortunately, that idea had been thrown out; several of the Masters had been angered by Alec Ness' prodigal student's persistence. "No thanks, Frreral. Perhaps some other time," he said. His raven hair had grown much longer; it split into a widow's peak that covered his eyes. For someone still as young as he was, his hair was beginning to show silver streaks that were oddly symmetrical.

"All right, but be careful. You still owe me some credits from the last time we played Pazaak."

"Funny story…" he began to say, smiling at the wookiee.

Frreral let out a low wookiee moan.

"I'm kidding. You'll have your money soon enough. I am aware of the fact you can rip my arms out of my socket and beat me to death with it, Frreral." With that he left the Temple's entrance, running down the flight of stairs that would lead him into the world of Coruscant. He couldn't help but chuckle as he remembered one incident when an unfortunate bounty hunter decided to 'collect' his bounty. Frreral had been weaponless, but he was definitely not timid. The wookiee smacked the bounty hunter's weapon from his hand and popped the man's arms out of his socket. With that, Frreral beat him within an inch of his life—as a warning, of course. He had been one of the first disciples of the new way, taking care to find a balance within him to use both the Light and Dark sides of the Force.

As the young man walked through the political district of Coruscant, he couldn't help but be overcome with feelings of regret. _It didn't have to be this way. We are keepers of the peace, as we have always been. Now the Republic is in shambles and the Jedi are nowhere to be found. Yes, we had to disband because of Sion, Nihilus and Traya, but we could have done more. In our ignorance, we left a shattered Republic to save our hides. _He shook his head. _At least Bastila and Carth are trying to accomplish something. As for Atris and the others…_

His thought was cut short by a loud piercing scream. The Jedi looked up and realized he had walked away from the political district and into a seedier element. The Coruscant Underworld. He heard the scream and channeled the Force around himself. He felt the rush of the Force all around him, the rush of life that filled his senses. He heard the scream again. He began to run towards where he thought the voice was, weaving through the traffic of people walking throughout the underground. He found an alley behind a large building—behind a cantina. He heard the scream again and heard the voice.

He walked through the cantina, finding its highest level and he climbed to the roof. The building was ancient—definitely smaller than most of the buildings that made up the city of Coruscant. He walked along the roof, hearing the high-pitched scream. He knew he only had a matter of time to home in on the woman. He raced to the end of the building and he knew he had found his quarry.

"No! Please!" She screamed. She was obviously a teen. The human girl was certainly attractive and it must have definitely picked up on the five who cornered her. Two of them were human; the others were a Twi'lek, Rodian and Weequay.

He looked around for a way to make it to the ground safely. There was none. Throwing caution to the wind, he jumped. Using the Force around him, he slowed his descent and the Force cushioned his fall. As he landed behind them, his hand immediately went to his lightsaber. They heard something drop and spun around to find an ominous figure in a long black coat walk slowly towards them.

The weequay looked at the rodian and the twi'lek. "Kill him," he barked.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Dante replied, his voice cold. He gently used the Force to strengthen his words. "Leave her alone and walk out of here."

The green bulbous eyed rodian began to listen to the Jedi, but was cut short when a human yelled out, "that's a Jedi mind trick, you nerfherder! Stay here! I used to kill you Jedi when I worked under Malak. Your tricks won't work on me."

"I warned you," he said again to the group.

The woman had stopped screaming, watching what was transpiring before her eyes.

Everyone else turned around and moved towards the Jedi.

In a blur, the Jedi ignited his cerulean blade, decapitating the twi'lek instantly, while he spun around to deflect two blaster shots back to the weequay, dropping him instantly. "I told you to stand down," he said calmly, as he sliced the rodian in half.

The two humans had continued to open fire at the Jedi, eager to stop him. With that failing, the men tried to turn and run, but found themselves cornered.

Using the Force, he pulled the one human who didn't speak and threw him high into the air and onto the roof of the cantina.

Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in judgment, the former Sith opened fire on the Jedi. He didn't count on the Jedi's abilities to be formidable. The three blaster bolts came flying back at him, searing through his clothes and skin. He had three burnt holes in his chest.

Dante deactivated his blade, taking careful glances to make sure no one had seen him. Holstering his lightsaber, he walked to the young woman and offered his hand. "It's all right, no one is going to harm you again," he said reassuringly. She took his hand and rose. Terrified, she left quickly, eager to put this night behind her.

The young man only sighed. _They're terrified of us. Rightly so. We are the cause of their misfortunes. _He left the alley, eager to make his way back to the Jedi Temple, where he owed a certain wookiee some credits. He gazed up at the sky, noticing the airspeeders and several ships flying towards their docking ports. He sighed, realizing that he wished he was in the _Vaapad_.

Sekula and Sirry had given the old gunship to him, after they had decided to leave the Republic to settle down. As it turned out, gunship had belonged to Dierak Hessian, the Mandalorian Dante had fought with for years. He found some irony in the notion that Hessian's greatest enemy had taken away his last possession. Then again, Hessian was dead, so the vessel did not have an owner. Dante made a mental note of paying the two former commandoes a visit.

_Well, looks like I will have to have a chat with Mr. Romantic_, he thought to himself as he felt the Force gather around him as he leapt high into the air, landing on the same rooftop that the unfortunate survivor had landed on.

The man was groaning as he realized his arm was broken and it was harder for him to get up.

Dante walked towards the man and a dark look came over the Jedi. "Tell me something," he began as his black-gloved hands began to emit a blue glow. "Do you enjoy preying on the weak and fearful? Or are you strong enough to handle someone like me?"

The man's look became more fearful as Dante approached him, slowly and yet so quickly. He tried to scream—he was desperate to scream as a whirl of blue crackling energy flew out from the Jedi's hands.


	3. The Jedi Remnant

_The Jedi Remnant _

Dante had returned to the Temple, the 5 giant pillars on the metropolitan-planet, and found himself in the empty Council Room. It had been far too long since the Jedi Order had been gone. It had been some 8 months since he had seen some of the last few Masters in the Order—or rather, who _were_ in the Order. He knew that soon he would have to find the others who were not killed.

_As for Atris,_ he thought to himself, _why would you choose a narrow view of the Force? A wise Master such as yourself should never have succumbed to your own failings. But there may yet be hope for you—you've embraced some measure of your emotions. I only hope that in time, you do not delude yourself with _other_ ideas._

Dante sighed to himself as he looked out at the night sky—which was more of an indigo colour now—as he found himself drifting into thoughts of the Jedi Civil War, more accurately, towards the Sith. He knew that the war had been a matter of invading several core systems and planets vital to the production of war. _But why?_

Before Revan had left, the Jedi had stated that there was another group of Sith—the _True _Sith Empire, beyond the Outer Rim. Revan had left to combat them—or join them. No one knows. But those who had the ability to tap into the Force felt the tumultuous tremors within it—which only came when Revan had flashbacks of his former self.

If that was the case, then the Galaxy would be seeing another war all-too-soon. If that was the case, then the Jedi have been fighting an unrelenting war that only the Sith could fight. A war where only the Sith raged against Sith—another _civil _war.

Dante continued to ponder. _Is there no end to war? Will we continue to be inexorably forced into continuing this dastardly cycle of relentless war and death?_ Before he could continue, he heard the doors hiss behind him and hiss once more as he felt the ripples in the Force of a powerful figure approach him from behind.

"Master," the young feminine voice spoke. "Isn't it a bit late for you to be up? It's been so long since you've slept." It was clear she was from the Core—she was Corellian and her voice had told him so before he even turned around to reply.

But he knew it before she could even speak. Her presence was very familiar to him. He turned around to see a young human female—no more than 18 years of age—staring back at him. "I will sleep in a while, Rena. You should have some sleep yourself."

Her hair was as black as the night itself, her eyes radiated a crystal blue that betrayed her intensity. She was clad in light, cream-coloured robes. Her hair ran down to her shoulder blades, as some of her hair covered her own pale cheeks. Rena Naver had only been no more than 12 years when he had found her. She had been running away from a group of slavers that Dante had cut down in order to protect her.

He recognized her incredible strength in the Force and took it upon himself to train her—she had no family. But before he grew used to her presence, he found it familiar before they had even met. She had the intensity and charm of someone else from Dante's past. Someone he could not seem to remember for the life of him.

"You know what they say Master," she smiled, " 'no rest for the wicked.'"

"Perhaps, but you're still younger than me—and I make the rules, so get some sleep."

She sighed and turned around, grumbling to herself. "You only make the rules because you're so old," she said under her breath, as she walked out of the room.

"I'm only 28," Dante shot back before she was out of reach. "Masters Jace and Frreral are much older than me!"

He was satisfied to hear her giggle, but heard someone cough suddenly. _Oh Sithspit,_ he thought as six imposing figures walked in: an ithorian, a nautolan, 3 human males and a wookiee.

"Master Ravenmoon," the bald, dark-skinned man spoke, leading the procession into the Council Chambers.

"Master Jace," Dante acknowledged the older man with a nod of his head.

"I see that you've been entertaining your Apprentice, rather than training her in the ways of the Force. I take it that you have decided to leave the Jedi Order and commit yourself to comedic antics instead?" Cyrin Jace, the Jedi Master and former Council Member suggested, with a tilt of his head to indicate he was not amused.

"Not at all, Master Jace," Dante replied coolly, stifling the urge to laugh.

"Very well, take a seat Master Ravenmoon," the Master replied. There had been a point when the hard-as-nails Master would have been amused—but at this point, the Jedi Order had nearly been broken and only a few remained in a shattered Galaxy. It had come to a point when no one would be able to remember when the Master had smiled—or if the Jedi could even smile at all.

As they sat down, Dante greeted his compatriots by nodded in their directions: the green, black bulbous eyed nautolan, Master Len Vizta; the T-shaped head of the ithorian Knight Sneed Ze; the Zen-like countenance of Master Ash Merrick; the lighthearted appearance of Knight Tarn Seethes; and the golden furred wookiee Frreral—who was on his way to becoming a Master soon enough.

"I will come straight to the point," Jace began as everyone's attention focused on the dark-skinned man. He reminded Dante of the former commando Sekula, some years back at the end of the Jedi Civil War. "Knight Toll Fin has not returned from his journey to Corellia."

"I thought that he was there to search for the elusive presence of a Force-adept?" Dante stated rather than asked.

"We all did too," Jace replied as he turned to his compatriot Ash Merrick, who would explain the rest.

"After he did not report in, I left to Corellia in hopes of finding him," the serene voice started. "Before I could leave, I found a lightsaber that had been sent to us. It was Master Fin's lightsaber," he said, revealing the scarred and worn cylindrical weapon in his hand.

"Could it merely mean that he has left the Order?" Len spoke up, hoping it was not the myriad of alternatives that began to swirl around in the minds of his comrades as well as him.

"Unfortunately no," Ash answered, as he lifted the lightsaber upright and continued. "Shortly after I received the lightsaber, I also received a message from CorSec—they reported the remains of Toll. However, there was a message that was intricately crafted into this lightsaber." He tapped the activation plate and where there was supposed to be an emerald shaft of energy, came a blue-hued image of the Jedi Knight 's face as he spoke.

"_This is Jedi Knight Toll Fin. I am being pursued by—someone. I think it is a Sith Assassin. They have not been wiped out. I don't have much time—and if I do not survive, then I can only hope that this will be sent to you in record time. There is a structure underground the Republic military base. It is much more than a mere base—it's a breeding ground of, some sort of army. I don't have much time left Masters, but I hope this message returns to you quickly. The Force presence I was sent to search for undoubtedly lies there—and the Republic has not been forthcoming with this information. All I know is that there are hexagonal observation posts—there is something—no, _someone_ down there! Masters, I must leave it at that—I don't have much information. There is—oh no._" Fin's face left the image as the sound of lightsabers activated. After that, the image died away.

"The message replays after that," Ash spoke softly, understanding that his companions were in silent thought towards this threat—and for the loss of their friend.

After a few more moments, Jace looked at his companions and then paid careful attention to Len. "Len, you will inform Knight Fallout to go to Corellia and discover what this threat is. He should be returning here from Borleias."

"I understand, Cyrin," Len answered softly. The Nautolan suppressed a shudder at the possibility of his former apprentice dueling with a Dark Jedi. Despite his worries, Len knew Gideon Fallout was a highly skilled duelist in the Order, but Len also knew that Gideon had had enough of killing.

"We have developed a new problem," the Jedi Master spoke once more as the others sat down, "the Senate has been growing complacent with the need for the Order to rebuild as opposed to helping the rest of the Galaxy."

"The Order has suffered enormously from the last three wars," Ash spoke thoughtfully. "Surely they can't ask us to spread our numbers even thinner than they are now."

"Be that as it may," Sneed spoke, "the Republic still needs our aid."

"When our numbers are in the low double-digits?" Tarn rebuked. "Sneed, obviously you can see that we only have a handful of able-bodied Jedi," he gestured across the Council Room, "and they are essentially _us_. We have only one apprentice and she is only 18. We have younglings that are only 5 year olds. We are in no position to aid."

"I am inclined to agree with Tarn," Ash said. "We're too few to police the Galaxy. As much as we want to help the Galaxy, we're in no position to help ourselves. Every time we seek to add more Jedi to our Order, parents choose not to give us their children because of the damaging reputation we've sustained from the wars."

"But that only occurred in the first place because our teachings were too strict," Sneed began. "We've rectified that mistake now."

"Only now," Tarn snorted, "but the rest of the Galaxy doesn't know that. All the Masters who had chosen not to accept the failures of Revan, Malak, Qel-Droma and even Kun are not here anymore. We're the remainders of the Order; and the reason why the Jedi Civil War was labeled as such, was because no one could tell the difference between us and the Sith."

"But the Sith are _evil_," Sneed began, to be cut off by Dante.

"Evil? Sneed, the people had put us on a pedestal—that we can do no wrong, yet look where that standard has taken us. We chose to ignore the voice of the Force and we chose to commit to the Civil and Silent Wars. We ultimately created the Sith, _we_ are to blame. This Order needs more time to conduct itself—we're only a handful of Jedi."

The room stood silent for a moment more before Dante spoke again.

"The Sith are no more than the promise of our inner darkness—_we're_ to blame. We're the evil ones, and rightly so." He sighed and looked at his companions, as they seemed to be enmeshed in their own thoughts.

"We still haven't heard any word from Atris," Cyrin spoke once more.

"The Exile had mentioned Atris' whereabouts on Telos. But she had also said that Atris had lost her sanity and fallen to the Dark Side," Len said, his expression had become ominous.

"Be that as it may, we cannot afford to have another Revan—or Kun," the dark skinned man said, his dark eyes seeming far off. The Jedi Master was older than his companions in the room—including Frreral. The 53-year-old man had seen war for most of his life and it hadn't affected him as badly as the Jedi Civil War and the Silent war. He had been forced to kill his second Apprentice—the daughter whom he never had—during the Civil War. And he had watched as his third Apprentice—whom he took after long debate—be killed by his first, who was shortly killed by the powerful Master, during the Silent War that Sion and Nihilus had started. It was unknown to the rest as to what his reasons were for learning of the Unifying Force. Very few in the Order—during and after the dark times—could match his skill with a blade and his strength in the Force.

It was a stark possibility that not even the late Master Kavar could out-duel him..

Dante had been saddened at hearing the loss of the Jedi Master on Dantooine. Kreia—or Darth Traya—had killed the three survivors and warped the mind of the fourth. He wondered where the Exile had gone. He had only heard about her and he often wondered if she even existed. He cut his line of thinking as he noticed that Cyrin Jace was saying something.

"Dante," the Master started, "you will go to Telos, with your Apprentice. It is there that you will find out what happened to Atris. If possible—gather what information you can about her and the artifacts she had in her possession at the Hidden Academy."

"I understand, Master Jace," Dante replied.

"Also," the Master added, "if you feel the awakening of a possible Force-adept, please inquire about it."

Dante merely nodded.

"May the Force be with you," Jace said. The Council's session had come to its end.

* * *

Dante roamed through the Temple corridors. As always, they were silent and empty. He knew it would only be a matter of time until the Jedi Order was back to high numbers. He had spent most of his life in the Temple, training with friends who had inevitably fallen to the Dark Side or were killed during war.

It had been hard on him to live through the Temple after the Silent War, but now did not matter to him. His heart was cold—the only warm thing that flowed through it was one person: Rena. Since he had begun training her—for no real reason, other than to teach her the ways of the Force and to help her control the burgeoning powers within her—she had become someone to pull him through his darkest moments.

He roamed past her quarters, knowing—rather than feeling—she wouldn't be in there, and made his way to the combat training room.

She had been helping the other Master with training the Younglings—the Bantha Squad.

They were young and eager to learn the ways of the Force. Most were orphans or came from poor families. These children would know peace and live to achieve great things. Since there were so few children, they were all thrown into one Cub Clan: the Bantha Squad.

The doors hissed open and closed, as he walked through them, his black duster continued to billow around him. He chose not to wear his cloak—he hadn't worn in quite some time. He witnessed her swinging her emerald lightsaber around the air, sweeping into arcs and other colourful displays.

She had become very fond of using one of the older Jedi fighting styles: Form I. Though the fighting style was an introductory fighting style, few ever mastered the volatility of the fighting style—most often chose other levels, such as Form III, V or even Form VI. Whatever reason Rena had chosen to use this fighting style, she seemed very skilled with it.

Dante found he couldn't help but smile at the sight. He felt her presence as a constant current through the Force—a symbol of harmony that bridged the gap between Light and Dark. She had truly become his own Star pupil, finding her own center within herself and the Force. _Perhaps she is much closer to understanding the Unifying Force than I ever will,_ he thought admittedly.

She stopped as she felt his presence and turned around to face him, bowing and smiling. "Ah, Master," she began, "have you come to berate me for not sleeping?" Remarkably, the young woman hadn't even been panting or had a bead of sweat—it was clear she wasn't _drawing_ on the Force, as it appeared she was in tune with it.

"Actually no," he began, removing his worn black coat and casting it aside. "I've come with news, though you do seem to require a sparring partner." He walked down the little steps and onto the sparring platform, positioning himself in front of her. "Would you care for one?" He asked, shamelessly.

"You know I'd be honoured, Master," she replied, tilting her head in something akin to a maternal, yet teasing fashion. She tapped another button on her black and silver weapon, indicating that it was on a low power setting.

"Very well," he replied, doing the same and igniting his sapphire blade—the blade of someone close to him so very long ago. The silver hilt had appeared worn, yet was clearly serviceable. It carried intricate design patterns along the grip, including an old saying of 'there is no such thing as luck, only skill.' It was the lightsaber hilt of Rin Mesa. "When you're ready," he said, tightening his hold over the blade.

The only signal he received was a nod from her, before she lunged at the Master, bringing her blade all around his shoulders and legs, aiming for limbs, while he continued to parry each strike, defending and adapting to her movements.

Dante had focused his skills on his fighting Form IV—the adaptive and defensive stance that allowed him to essentially defend his way to victory. In a blur, he began to deflect each strike, turning some of them back, forming arcs of turquoise as their blades meshed around one another.

She kept her eyes on him as he did the same. She let her blade stay in one hand as she swung towards the left on a horizontal slash, arcing upwards towards his left shoulder and then back down towards his right leg, weaving a pattern of emerald death in a deadly combination.

He spun his blade in a clockwise fashion, taking care to knocking each strike away from him and towards her. He enjoyed turning back Form I manoeuvres—Form I tended to be a hazard to opponents and the wielder themselves.

She begun to start moving herself away as she was slowly pushed on the defensive, as Dante brought his blade high and low, only to lock his blade against hers.

"It's over," he said, smiling as she continued to struggled with his grip, as his other hand wrapped around her hands that held her lightsaber.

She continued to struggle, her blue eyes radiating the defiance of defeat.

"You know," he began, a smile forming on his lips—a smile that had rarely occurred since the end of the Jedi Civil War—, "you should mind your surroundings if you are eager not to concede defeat." With that he left go of her hands, both blades thrumming, as he crouched and swept her feet out from under her. He quickly rose and snatched her lightsaber from her grip, igniting the emerald blade while it tried to die away. He pointed both blades at her face—her flushed face. "Yield."

"I yield, Master," she said, sighing with an air of defeat.

"Good," he said, deactivating both blades and helping Rena up. He returned her blade to her and couldn't help but add, "you lasted longer this time—you're getting better."

"As if, Master," she snorted.

"What? You've never lasted longer than 10 minutes—this time it was 25."

She looked at him with a somewhat irate countenance, but found she couldn't resist laughing at the thought of her chasing her Master around with her lightsaber set on low, slashing at him as he leapt high into the air, yelping for his life.

"What?" He asked, his expression puzzled.

"Nothing, Master, just some Padawan Mental Disciplining." After another moment, she looked at Dante and had to ask. "What did you want to see me for, Master?"

He looked at her soft blue eyes—sometimes they could even be piercing. He sighed. "The Council has decreed that we should be sent to Telos—to investigate the Hidden Jedi Academy there."

"A mission? Hidden Academy?" Her expression seemed even more puzzled.

"There was a Jedi Master that created the Academy there, Rena—after the Civil War," he explained as he sat down on the stairs. "Her name was—is—I am not sure if she even exists anymore—but her name is Atris. She had been a survivor of Dantooine and transported many Jedi artifacts towards the battered planet. It made an excellent hidden Enclave." He sighed. It had been so many years ago, since the events of Darth Malak and Revan. "Last we heard, she had fallen to the Dark Side—but we do not know if she still lives. We need to see if the Academy still exists—and if there is anything we can do lend aid to both the Republic and the Jedi Order itself."

After a few more moments of soaking in the information, Rena nodded her head eagerly. "The Council wants us to recover whatever we can?"

This time, it was Dante's turn to nod.

"All right then," she answered. "When do we leave?"

"Later in the afternoon," he said, rising. "But first, time for us to rest. We have a long journey ahead of us." _And hopefully you don't run into Sith immediately. I sense that the Council has hopes of Knighting you before you could even be ready. Let us hope that I am merely paranoid_, he thought to himself as he grabbed his coat and left the room, eager to find his quarters and rest.


	4. Modus Operandi

_Modus Operandi _

The vessel drifted silently through the dark corners of space, without purpose and without memory. The vessel was wedge-shaped in design, but forked into two sections—the dorsal bow and the ventral bow. The vessel was a former Sith _Interdictor_-Class warship, one of the deadliest of its kind. The vessel contained memories of war and bloodshed as it continued to move aimlessly. One thing was for certain: it was definitely in pristine condition for a warship that had fought in the most violent of wars.

A lone figure stood in the bridge, staring out at the massive specks of stars amongst the darkness. The lights had been dimmed, and no one—save for that figure—was on board that deck. At one point, the figure would have worn pure white robes—robes that had once meant something—but now there simply was not point to it. The white robes had held the figure firmly in the idea of protecting something—especially when they had ceased to be that ideal.

Her eyes had once been soft and compassionate; now it was just dark and cold. Her hair had matched her white robes, but its intensity died, as she let her hair fall. Her soft pink skin had become sickly pale, almost as if she no longer held any blood in her body. It seemed fitting, as her heart seemed colder—heavier and much more burdened. Her robes were now black—blacker than the night and the very space she traveled between.

For all of her changes, however, Atris had one stubborn habit: she could not abide an unkempt vessel or habitat. After all, the _Leviathan_ was very much her new home. Somehow it seemed befitting that the bereft vessel had become her new home and with it, she had found those willing to follow; those willing to die for the promises she had made. The false promise of treasures from the ever-closer war and destruction of their enemies—_her_ enemies: the Republic and the Jedi Remnants.

Unlike the Jedi's ignorance, Atris had her eyes opened from none other than Kreia—or the late Darth Traya. She realized then that the old woman had been right about the Jedi: they were ignorant fools that denied the truth of the darkness within them. They forced themselves to purge their own emotions, which led to the downfall of the entire Order. Atris, on the other hand, had been far more accepting; her anger had taken hold of her and allowed her to understand it over time.

Emotions were not bad at all—the Force was a tool she could exploit in order to ensure that the Galaxy would realize the truth of the Jedi: they were manipulative, foolish, unfeeling cowards. Brute force was something that was totally unbecoming, however, in her plan for revealing the Jedi for what they were, it was a necessity. Atris had other plans in store for the Jedi—though it included some measure of brutality.

Deaths were always a necessity. _Soon_, she thought to herself, _I shall reveal the inner darkness within us all. The Jedi would soon be no more as they come face to face with their own failings—and what better failing than Revan?_ She smiled, as the thought of watching the Galaxy destroy itself from within by its own fears warmed her.

Before she could think of anything further, a channel beeped on her desk—someone was trying to communicate with her—and a pint-sized figure appeared on the holoprojector. "Mistress?" A gruff voice called out.

"Yes?"

"We're receiving an incoming message from the Core."

_At last_, she thought. "Put it through to my chambers."

The figure died away as another lit up to replace it. This time, the figure was wearing a military uniform—a uniform that carried the symbols of the Republic. He was clean-shaven and his short hair was parted at one corner and combed over the other side. He appeared no more than somewhere in his early 30s.

"Ah, General Scrimshaw, what news do you have?"

"Mistress Atris," he began, "I have allocated the proper resources and loyal troops necessary for me to carry out your orders."

"Good, good," she replied, her voice speaking softly and a smile forming on her face. "And what of the variables within your fleet?"

"They've been…_disposed_ of."

"Excellent. What is the Republic's stance on the surviving Order?"

"The Republic is growing complacent, Mistress Atris."

"Good. Inform our mutual allies that they will soon be taken care of."

"Very well, Mistress. Scrimshaw out." With that, the figure faded. Erik Scrimshaw happened to be another one of her pawns that suited her plans.

_Soon fear would consume the Galaxy—and then fire._ Atris found herself warming to the thoughts once more.


	5. Old Friends

_Old Friends _

The _Vaapad_ dropped out of hyperspace, flying towards the blue and green pearl that hung in orbit. The _Vaapad_ continued to head towards Telos. The planet had significantly changed since the Jedi Civil War, and had continued to thrive after the incident with Nihilus. The silver Citadel Station hovered over the planet, high in orbit—almost as if it covered the natural beauty of the rebuilt planet.

The planet was guarded by several hammerhead shaped Republic Cruisers, notably headed up by the _Sojourn_, Admiral Carth Onasi's flagship.

Before Dante could even transmit his vessel's identification, he was already cleared to land on board the _Sojourn_. "It would appear that Admiral Onasi would like to converse with us," he said to Rena, who sat beside him in the cockpit's chair, tapping away at several keys.

"Isn't he an old friend of yours, Master?"

"Yes—and we have a mutual friend." He breathed in the sight. "It would be good to speak to Carth, after such a long time."

"Remember Master," she began, mocking his voice, "we're here for a purpose—not for our own amusement."

"Ha Ha," he replied sarcastically.

She smiled.

"Don't worry, Rena. I am aware we have a job to do. Firstly, we should make contact with the locals—and that would mean Admiral Onasi."

"Seems I have a lot to learn from the Master," she replied.

"It would appear so," he said teasingly.

The vessel entered the hangar bay of the _Sojourn_ and landed, as its engines and other vital systems began to power down. The _Vaapad_'s ramp opened, revealing Dante and Rena walking down, to be greeted by four Republic soldiers standing guard and in the center were two very important figures—and a small one that stood behind Bastila, nervously.

"Carth, Bastila," Dante greeted the both of them.

"Dante, it's good to see you again," Carth replied, his hair lined with hints of silver and his face a bit worn. "I see you've been taking an interest in the latest styles," he pointed out, referring to the graying hair of the Jedi Knight.

"It seems you've beaten me to it, Carth," Dante said, smiling at the sight of his friends. He looked at Bastila, her soft brown eyes and caring features on her face. Her chestnut hair had grown longer and appeared to be pulled back in a ponytail. She seemed somehow tired, but Dante felt that was only because of the fact that Revan had left the Known Galaxy.

"Hello Dante," her warm melodic voice greeted him.

"How are you, Bastila?"

"I've been doing quite fine. There is someone here who would like to meet you," she said, moving away and gently—in a maternal manner—ushering out a young child—no more than 5 or 6 years of age.

The little girl appeared to have raven black hair—similar to Rena and Revan—and her eyes sparkled with the same intensity of them. She held on to Bastila's leg, nervous at seeing the figure before her. She looked a lot like Bastila, only a few features had seemed different.

"Dante," Bastila began, "may I introduce to you my daughter: Vera."

It appeared that Dante was wrong: it appeared Vera might have been keeping Bastila tired. He was shocked, unsure of what to say. It had been 6 years since he had seen Bastila—just as Revan was leaving. He had asked both Jedi to join him in rebuilding the Order, but now he could clearly see why they had to refuse. He never asked—and never held it against them. After a few more moments, he finally said something. "Your daughter?"

"Yes—_Revan_ and my daughter, to be precise."

Dante nodded in understanding. It was obviously a surprise to him, to see a 6-year-old child when he greeted his old friends. He looked at Carth and asked, "don't tell me you have any surprises?"

Carth shook his head. "Nothing much, except that Dustil has been learning the ways of the Force from Bastila."

He nodded, realizing that Dustil still wasn't sure what to make of the Jedi Order—or rather, the _new _Jedi Order.

"Who's this?" Carth asked, shaking Dante from his thoughts.

"Who? Oh!" He had forgotten. "This is my Apprentice: Rena Naver."

"Nice to meet you, Rena," Carth said, as he took notice of her. "Say, you look familiar, have I seen you somewhere?"

Rena smiled politely and replied, "I don't believe so, Admiral. I grew up in Corellia and it wasn't until about 6 years ago that I ran into Master Ravenmoon."

"You weren't taken in at a much younger age?" Bastila asked, curious as to what Dante had been intending in his new methods of the Force. Bastila seemed to stare intently at Rena, something had struck her as odd; almost as if there were some familiarity with the young woman's presence.

"No, I wasn't," Rena admitted, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at the level of attention Bastila was giving her.

Dante felt Bastila's wariness through the Force and he felt how uncomfortable Rena was. He also noticed something peculiar—Vera seemed to accept Rena's presence, almost as if the child had felt the presence of the young woman too, but on a much deeper scale. He interrupted Bastila's line of thought as he realized that Rena would probably become exceptionally irate. "I believe there is something the both of you could help me with," he quickly quipped before either one of the women could say something.

"I was about to ask what brought you here," Carth said. "After all, with your new Academy, I can understand that is must be something important for you to leave it."

"It's fine in the hands of Masters Jace and Frreral," Dante replied. "Besides, I think this is something of mutual interest for the both of us."

"How so?"

"Because it involves a secret Telosian installation on the Northern Ice Cap, Carth."

"Oh."

* * *

After he had gone through details of Atris and the installation, Carth ordered a detail to investigate the claim. Meanwhile, Rena kept Vera company, while this allowed time for Dante to speak to Bastila.

"Bastila," he began, sitting down on a chair beside her, "why didn't you tell me before?"

She looked up at him with something akin to sadness and regret. "I wanted to, _Revan _wanted to. But we couldn't—Revan began to have visions of the Temple being invaded by a cloaked Jedi and thousands of white armoured soldiers. That same young Jedi had killed several of the Younglings. Revan felt that the man who killed all of those Younglings was _our_ child. He made me promise not to bring our child to the Order, for fear of someone waiting to twist the mind of Vera."

"I understand," he said, "but, Bastila, Vera is a girl. When did Revan leave?"

"Before she was born."

Dante nodded silently. "Revan doesn't know that this vision isn't of your daughter. So, who is it?"

"I don't know, Dante." Bastila was honest in her answer.

After a moment, he looked up at her and smiled softly. "It is all right anyway, Bastila. I wanted to let you know that, after Rena is sworn in as a Knight, I will be leaving Known Space to look for him."

She looked up at him. "Do you honestly mean that?"

"Yes, Bastila. I am going to bring him back."

"But what about the war?"

"Revan and I will find a way. I know that the Exile--,"

"Theresa Falcus," Bastila said.

"Is that her name?"

"Yes."

"I'll find both of them—we'll find a way to end the war and eliminate the Sith. I won't allow anything to happen to them," he promised.

"Do you think that you will end the war before it even begins?"

"Of course," he replied, "after all, we have two of the greatest Generals. And to top that off, they're both Jedi. We'll finish this war before it will even begin. Then we will continue to rebuild the Republic."

"You can count on myself and Carth to help in whatever way we can," Bastila replied determinedly.

"I know, Bastila. Also, be wary—we do not yet know the intentions of Atris. I sense an insidious presence creeping through the Galaxy. I do not yet know where—or _what_—this presence is. You and Carth will have to ensure the security of the Galaxy, and you won't be alone. Master Jace and the others will be ready to help."

"We will have the Republic back to itself when you arrive."

"I know, Bastila. I know that Revan had really fought for us—and that the old Masters were misunderstood in Revan's intentions. We will end the presence of the Sith once and for all. Their oppression will no longer exist." After a moment, the young Knight's comlink beeped and he looked at Bastila and said, "it is time for us to leave. Carth's group has arrived."

"I understand," she whispered as he rose from his chair.

"Tell Carth that we're sorry to leave him without saying goodbye, but we will meet again. Rena," Dante alerted his apprentice, who rose up and realized it was time to go.

"I'm sorry Vera," she said softly, "I have to leave."

The young child look saddened to hear that. "Why?"

"Because I have to. I need to go out and help others, Vera." Rena lifted Vera's chin up and handed her something—a toy. "Take this and remember me by it."

Vera could only smile.

With that, both Jedi left to the hangar bay and soon thereafter, a shuttle left the _Sojourn_, eager to make its destination and meet the awaiting team down on the planet.


	6. Welcoming Committee

Welcoming Committee After the shuttle had landed, Dante and Rena walked from the ramp and saw no one. All that was left was another shuttle—but there was no one else on the Mesa. The snow had continued to flutter down to the ground, making it somewhat harder for both Jedi to see, but they had made one observation: the doorway to the Telos installation was open. 

"It would appear our colleagues grew impatient and entered the Telosian Academy, Master," Rena pointed out.

"So it would appear," he agreed. "Well, we have no choice but to enter. Let us hope that the others are all right."

"I feel nothing but despair within this place, Master."

"I feel it too, Rena. Try to focus on our job. We need to see if Atris survive—or if _anything_ has survived, for that matter."

Rena only nodded as both Jedi brought their lightsabers to their hands and entered the installation.

They walked through the entrance, taking care to walk through the vestibule as quickly as possible. They continued to feel a wave of despair shudder throughout the installation. Whatever had been here had certainly left its mark. Neither Dante nor Rena felt the others anywhere throughout the structure. It was obvious something had gone awfully wrong.

"There is a nothingness to this place," Rena observed as they walked through the dark, silent place.

"I concur. This place is a tomb." He paused as he noticed a command console. "Perhaps there might be something within the system that will shed light on what happened." He walked towards the console and tapped in several keys.

_Access Denied._ He sighed. He tapped on the keys a few more times, to no avail.

Dante sliced into the system, tapping a spike into the console's programming, which consequently allowed him unrestricted access to the entire Academy's system commands. His eyes lit up; never before had he seen such a complex system. There was one problem though—no matter how much information the system carried, most of it was irreparable. Sighing, he cycled through the systems and uploaded an area schematic to his datapad.

"There we go," he said. He turned around and saw Rena gazing out into a hallway that ran parallel to another one that also seemed to stretch on for quite a bit and lead towards a vast chamber. It occurred to him then that they had only entered the first set of rooms. There was a major chamber that led towards a hangar bay. There was one thing that disturbed him, however: if the team had gone inside this tomb, why was there no one trying to communicate to them? And most importantly, where was everyone?

"Master," Rena began, taking an interest in the console, "let us check for any records of what may have occurred here."

"Good thinking," he said, as he manoeuvred away from the console so she could take a look at it.

She cycled through the commands, ensuring that certain security systems were disabled; it wouldn't be to their benefit if an automated turret opened fire on them or something much worse was released on them. She smiled as she found the security camera system, opening it and cycling through to the holorecords, which displayed what occurred in the last 3 hours. There was nothing else that dated further than that, which Rena found most curious. "Master," she said, as she opened one of the security holovids.

"What is it?"

"I believe that I have found out what has happened to the Telosian survey team."

Dante walked over to join her as one of the monitors displayed the holovids.

"_This is Commander Street; we've decided to go in ahead of our visitors in order to secure the site." Commander Street led the procession of the team down, scanning through the room and hearing on the comlink that the first group of chambers and quarters were all clear. _

"_Sir!" One of the officers calls out as they noticed a jam door._

"_Stand by, blow that thing!" Street orders as most of his team takes up firing positions near the door. _

_A large explosion is heard, followed by the whining and hissing of the door opening. _

_The team moves in and the feed is cut._

"That's all, Master," Rena states as Dante looks around for the doorway.

"There's got to be something more," he whispers. With a reluctant sigh, he looks at the hallway. "Looks like they went this way then. Shall we?"

"After you."

Both Jedi held their lightsabers up at a ready position, thumbing the activation plate as they walked through the long hallway cautiously. They looked at each other as they reached the halfway point.

"Point of no return," Rena joked half-heartedly.

"No return to what, though?" _Something does not feel right, _he thought darkly. _There is something elusive, but what?_ He eyed around the hallway—nothing stood between the bottomless drop. A light breeze ran from dark chasm, ruffling the Jedi's hair just a bit. He paid it no mind.

The light hum of generators filled the silence as suddenly a loud whirring sound was heard, followed by screams. And then a wave of pain, death and screaming rushed over the two Jedi through the Force, causing them to cry out in pain as they collapsed on the ground.

Both Jedi tried to get up, as Rena noticed the door from the main chambers opened, revealing two Telosian men from the team came running out.

"Help! Help!" A third one called out as his plea was cut short by a bloodcurdling scream.

Forcing his eyes open, Dante witnessed one of the two men being pulled high into the air from an invisible force and thrown down into the black chasm, screaming for his life. The sounds echoed throughout the hallway. _Sith!_ Dante screamed in his mind as he rose. He saw Rena rising, albeit slowly. The pain they felt in the Force had washed over them and both of them felt the intensity of it resonating in their bodies as they rushed towards the last Telosian, who ran towards them with everything he had.

"Help! Kill it!" He screamed. "For the love of--," he was cut off as a silver glint came whirring towards him, shearing him in two.

"Rena, down!" Dante yelled as he realized the flying propeller was the blade of a sword without a hilt. Calling on the Force he shove the whirring blade away from her, causing it to spark against a pillar, as it careened into the chasm.

She rose and looked at Dante, who retrieved his blade. "Thanks," she replied.

"Stay on your guard, Rena," he replied, as he began racing towards the entrance of the killing chamber.

Both Jedi stopped in front of the entrance as they witnessed the bodies of the team found all over the chamber. The darkness and dying lights that flashed momentarily revealed the blood and gore from the blade, and in the middle of it stood a dark figure.

"So you've come," he stated, "just like she said you would."

Dante's brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to understand what the figure was trying to say. "Who said that we would come?" The voice seemed all too familiar, yet he couldn't place it.

"Though I must say," the figure continued, ignoring Dante's question, "you are a bit late. But don't worry, I had a chance to entertain company."

"Who are you?" Rena asked.

He stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself: a man with pale skin, which seemed to be decaying in some parts. His blond hair was now matted in the blood of those he killed. He only wore black breeches; his boots were silver in colour. His defined muscles in his torso were covered in blood, as he continued to walk towards the pair. His eyes seemed to be missing, as his sockets spewed out streaks of blood, which ran down his pale, sunken cheeks. "I am her Disciple," he introduced. He brandished an obsidian coloured cylindrical object that was twice the length of the two Jedi's lightsaber hilts.

It then occurred to the Jedi Knight where he had heard the voice. The figure that appeared out of the shadows was a young man who had once fought for the ideals of the Republic, and more accurately, believed in the Jedi. He had been an agent that worked for Carth Onasi at one time. He had traveled with the Exile Theresa Falcus, and now he stood there, once a bastion of light, now a corrupted, twisted soul that reeked of the Dark Side. "Mical," Dante whispered as the shock registered on his face.

"Greetings," the former Republic soldier bowed. "Times have changed, haven't they?"

"They have, for you to have fallen so far," the Knight replied.

"Fallen?" Mical laughed as he heard that one. "She has shown me the truth! I see everything clearly."

"That's ironic, since you have no eyes with which to see," Rena replied curtly.

"Come," he said, "let us end this banter." He ignited both ends of his lightsaber, revealing cruel, bloodthirsty crimson blades.

"Have you killed Atris?" The Knight asked the Dark Jedi. It amazed him that in all these years, the figure before him had been strong in the ways of the Force and not once did any other Jedi know about it. The Dark Side seemed to slither around him, almost as if Dark Force tendrils leapt out from him, seeking to ensnare others. It was seemed very irresistible to Dante.

Only Rena seemed unaffected by it.

"Rest assured that Traya is alive," he replied as he leapt over the two and slashed at their backs.

Both Jedi ignited their blades and met Mical's slash, blade for blade. Rena leapt over the Dark Jedi and the battle was on.

Mical brought his lightsaber twirling back and forth, slashing and thrusting at both Jedi, as they relentlessly parried and clashed blades with the former Republic intelligence agent.

Dante arced his lightsaber high into the air, forcing the mutilated man to be pushed on his heels.

Rena crouched and went through with a low horizontal slash aimed for the Dark Jedi's legs. She was rewarded with a swift kick in her face, throwing her back. Before her vision blurred and went dark, she witnessed Mical plant his lightsaber onto the ground and leap high into the air and over her Master.

Dante felt her wink out, for a few moments. He turned around to face the Dark Jedi, only to notice that he was smiling.

"What's the matter? Have you lost your nerve?" Mical snorted derisively. He cackled at the Jedi, which began to infuriate the younger man.

Dante slashed left and right, meeting Mical blade for blade, as they began to move towards the main chambers again.

Mical wouldn't allow himself to be forced back. He slashed high and low, forcing the Jedi back on the defensive, as he planted the blade onto the surface once more and leapt out at the Knight, feet first, sending the other man back.

Dante grunted as he stumbled back. The fight would have to end soon, for Mical was slowly gaining the advantage. The Dark Jedi had him on edge with thoughts of what would happen to Rena if he were to fail.

"Now you're beginning to understand," Mical teased, "that you will not walk out of here alive. And that apprentice of yours…" he trailed off. The eyeless man smiled.

"I won't let you harm her," Dante said with resolve as he readied himself. He felt the currents of the Force guiding him towards his center, allowing him to channel his anger and feed off of it. He strode across the hallway, covering the distance between one another and lunged.

Mical brought his blades whirling about, knocking the sapphire blade away as he brought the blade within hovering distance towards Dante's face.

The Jedi spun about, locking his blade onto one end of the Dark Jedi's blade, only to snap his elbow out at the man's nose, hearing a satisfying crunch and yelp as the man fell back. Dante brought his blade over his shoulder and down across Mical, growling as he snapped the Dark Jedi's hilt in half, sending one half flying into the dark chasm below.

Mical lost his footing and stumbled back as he noticed that for some inexplicable reason, the battle began to turn.

Seizing Mical's momentary lapse, Dante pivoted his hips and threw his weight on his left leg as his right leg snapped out and slammed the Dark Jedi in the chest, throwing the man further back.

The Dark Jedi began to yelp, as he was surprised with the sheer ferocity the Jedi had come out to greet him with. He noticed the end of his other lightsaber had gone flying off the chasm as well, as he suddenly came face to face with the tip of a sapphire blade, eager to lop off his head. And out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the crumpled form Rena.

"It's over; you've lost, _Mical_," Dante declared.

"I don't think so," he replied smugly as he extended his hand, sending the Jedi flying back with crackling blue energy. Seizing the opportunity, Mical rose and turned to run into the main chamber—eager to find a weapon with which to attack the man. Before he could move one inch, he was stopped as he felt an immense invisible fist clamp his throat.

"It never even occurred to you that the Force would have taken care of me," he replied with disdain. Dante's hand was extended, revealing his forefinger and thumb millimeters away from one another while his other hand held the lit lightsaber. A dark expression had formed across his features, revealing a darkness that unsettled even the blind Mical, as blue light highlighted the darkness Dante carried within.

"Do what you will, but you'll never stop Traya," Mical spat, struggling for air.

"We'll see about that," Dante replied evenly, as he closed his hand into a tight fist.

Mical gurgled as his hands reached his throat. The sound of his bones cracking echoed throughout the hallway.

"What a waste," the Jedi murmured as he threw the body down into the chasm below, not even giving it a second thought. It no longer bothered him that his opponent had been defenceless—and that Dante could have spared the man's life, like a true Jedi. _No,_ Dante reasoned, _Mical would have hurt Rena. It is better this way. One less Dark Jedi to deal with, besides, he would never have given me the answers I sought._ He deactivated his blade and clipped it to his belt as he ran towards the fallen Rena, who began to rise under her own strength.

She groaned as she rose, noticing that Dante had come to help her up. She took his hands and stood up, noticing that the Dark Jedi was nowhere to be found. "Where is he?"

"He's dead," Dante replied, looking off to the side, as he appeared somewhat shameful of his deed.

"Oh," she said, looking askance. Her expression seemed saddened to hear the news. "I'm sorry Master," she said after a moment.

"Sorry for what?" He grew confused.

"For not being able to aid you when we fought him. I made one slip and he could have killed--,"

"Rena," Dante said reassuringly, cutting her off, "you did what you could. I would never have allowed him—or anyone for that matter—to hurt you or myself. You are still a Padawan, your abilities will grow and so will your skill. I will be there to guide you along. You've come very far and you've taken a very difficult Form to master, and that will take time. You will become a far greater Jedi than I could possibly hope to be."

She smiled softly, as the intensity of her eyes was restored. _I _will_ master my skills and the Force,_ she thought determinedly. _I will make you proud of me, Master._

Feeling her resolve growing stronger, he breathed deeply and said, "come now; we have to see if Atris still lives or if Mical was telling the truth after all."

Both Jedi left the hallway, making their way into the dark chambers. As they passed through the bloody chambers, both Jedi came across another hallway, that revealed another chamber—a Council Chamber. Both Jedi glanced at one another in surprise before they walked towards the doorway.

The doors did not open.

"I think it is welded shut, Master," she said as she noticed that the edges of the doors were welded together in a particular pattern; a pattern that indicated the use of a lightsaber.

"I believe you're right," he said as he ignited his lightsaber, driving it into one end of the doorway and creating an entrance of his own. After he arced his blade into a rectangular pattern, he extinguished his blade and with a Force-push, the makeshift door gave way. He turned to his apprentice and smiled. "That's another lesson for you: if someone locks you out—improvise. After you," he gestured towards the interior of the room.

After they had entered the room, which happened to be dim lit, their jaws dropped as their eyes revealed a plethora of Jedi antiquities.

"There is a plethora of Jedi wealth here," she exclaimed as she couldn't believe her eyes.

Sparring swords, Jedi holocrons—even lightsabers and monuments were found—littered the room. The cube-shaped holocrons seemed to lay strewn across the floor, revealing several empty shelves.

Dante walked over, studying the shelves as he picked up one of the holocrons. He noticed dust—almost as if this room had barely been open—and the dust covered everything—except for immaculately square-shaped spots.

"I think that we have uncovered an abundance in the artifacts that were lost to Malak's plundering," she said as she couldn't help but smile. She picked up one of the swords and stared in awe at its balance and weight in her hands.

He dropped the holocron on top of one of the square spots and noticed something peculiar: they didn't match up in size. For some odd reason, these massive shelves were empty—and it wasn't because someone knocked over these holocrons. Someone had taken something more important away. Something that seemed to match the Jedi everywhere in the Galaxy. He turned around and realized his worst fears were confirmed. Someone had been here before they did, undoubtedly plundering the room for one thing and that one thing was something that could drastically change the fate of the Galaxy in a way that would make most people think the Jedi Civil War was a border skirmish.

Rena noticed how uncomfortable Dante was and felt something from him. Something that seemed to unsettle her. "Master? What's wrong?"

His expression was serious and his voice betrayed no emotion as he spoke, cradling the Jedi holocron in one hand. "I think we need to inform the Council that the Sith holocrons are missing. And so is Atris."


	7. The Promised Ones

_The Promised Ones _

Her shuttle landed and she disembarked, walking without the need of escort. Her black robes billowed in the dark Corellian night, the wind at the height of the starscrapers seemed to only make her appearance even more daunting. The doors hissed open and closed immediately after she entered the warm, well-lit room. She paid the light no mind, as what she sought stood in front of her very eyes.

8 figures stood before her, all male and clad in dark clothing. Of the group of men, 5 were nonhuman—all were senators. One figure was a Neimoidian, clothed in the finest dark crimson robes; two were the bald, grey-clad Umbarans; another was a violet-clad, green-skinned Twi'lek; and two were military uniformed Bothans. One of two Bothans ranking in the upper echelons of the Republic.

"Ah, Mistress Atris," a familiar man spoke. It was General Erik Scrimshaw himself, his Republic military uniform revealing an orderly young man who had achieved an exceptionally high rank for someone his age. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

"Likewise, General," she nodded her head.

He went on to introduce the Senators, most of which she barely paid any attention to, until he finally came on to one of the key figures most precious to her—currently. "And here is the head of Republic Intelligence, Director Tamar Gran'gerst."

The older Bothan bowed. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mistress Atris."

"Indeed," she replied politely. "I trust that we will meet our target date—thanks to you, Director Gran'gerst?"

The camel-faced humanoid smiled, "of course. I obtained the samples and I must say, they are making excellent progress."

She felt his voice tremor slightly. _Fear so soon?_ She bit back the chance to smile at their well-founded fear. "Is there a problem?" She asked.

"Unfortunately yes, Mistress," Scrimshaw replied.

Tamar shot the General a reproachful expression.

Atris couldn't help but be amused by the Bothan's antics.

Clearing his throat, the Head of Republic Intelligence gestured for Atris to follow.

She did likewise, hearing attentively as Tamar spoke.

Everyone else followed the procession.

"As you know, the Promised Ones' training goes well. They seem to excel beyond anything we hoped. They will provide a great deal of security to the Galaxy, Mistress," he said, booming with some measure of pride.

"Indeed they will," she replied. Atris couldn't help but be annoyed with his tone, smug attitude and that he continued to delay what she wanted to hear.

"Well, of the vat, there were 24," he went on. "They all moved to optimal readings, however, as we noticed, within 3 years, some of them began to act…odd."

"Odd?" Now this had peaked her interest. "Define 'odd,' Director Gran'gerst."

"We noticed that four had become something akin to twins, the two pairs seemed to coordinate themselves well when it came to tactical scenarios. Now, when it comes to creating these vats, they take on some form of independence—something akin to taking one gender over the other, minute traits really. Since this was our first vat, the others had gone insane—some mutilated themselves, others were just…_deformed_."

"Deformed?" She paused and looked at the Bothan. "How so?"

"You better look for yourself, Mistress," he said as they entered a turbolift that guided the group down towards the underground levels.

As the doorway opened, it revealed a circular observation deck. Outside of the observation deck, thousands of large polygonal shaped vats littered the area, almost as if they were hanging in mid-air. The procession walked onto the observation deck and felt the rumbling and shuddering of the deck as it guided them down towards an even lower level.

As the observation deck stopped, dark shutters that blocked the transparisteel glass opened, revealing a large arena. It seemed something akin to a training ground. Everywhere was covered in a dark substance that could only be blood—and gore. Lots of it. There were even some corpses that lay all over the arena. It appeared that no one had the nerve to clean it. Some of the bodies were even gnawed at.

"This is where we train them and test their skills," Tamar said softly.

"And what of these 'mutilated' specimens?" She was undeniably curious.

"Well Mistress, they are vicious—far more cruel than the others. We had to put down most of them. Unfortunately," he added, "one of the four excellent specimens were killed—which prompted us to eliminate the contaminated ones. The death of the twin had an impact on its counterpart—forcing it to release itself and make its way onto the surface of the planet. Unfortunately, my men reported that it was killed before we could get a hold of that one."

"What happened to the others?"

"We still have the other pair and four of the deformed. During the broken twin's escape, three of the contaminated—that is a deformed _and _two of the mutilated specimens—managed to leave on board a spice freighter. We don't _exactly_ know its whereabouts—but one of our vessels picked it up and eliminated the freighter, as per my orders."

"So where did your cruiser find it, Director?"

"On its way to Kashyyyk. The vessel crashed somewhere in the Shadowlands. Reports stated that nothing survived the crash," he sniffed.

"I see." _So, even in its grotesque state, it would follow its predecessor. Excellent._ She looked out at the arena and noticed some shuffling in a dark corner. "What is it that you have to show me, Director?"

"Allow me to introduce the last of the contaminated," he said. He tapped a key on the console next to him and he spoke into it. "Release the Gammas."

Suddenly four cages rose and in it presented disfigured and naked humanoids. They had all gone insane, and had sliced parts of their bodies away from them. One had even removed its ears and hair on its head. They seemed to bare an odd resemblance towards the Rakghouls on the late planet Taris.

"As you know," Tamar continued, "we have genetically modified them to be a bit more docile. The successful ones—the 'Alphas'—have some degree of independence, but follow our orders. They are tailored to take direct orders from you, Mistress." The greying Bothan tapped another key and a fifth cage rose, revealing a confused individual, wearing the robes of a Jedi. "We had caught him trying to sneak into our facility. Naturally, to prevent anyone not directly tied to you, from gaining any knowledge of Operation: Guardian Shield, we chose to capture him."

She felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor man, who had no clue what he was doing there. She felt the Force flow through him strongly, but she knew the Gammas were so much more perverse and stronger, through the Dark Side of the Force. Something that she found herself even slightly abhorred to, as she gazed at the aberrations of the Living Force. "What is his name?" She found herself asking before she realized it. She silently chided herself for that.

"According to our records, he is a Jedi named Gideon Fallout. He was caught snooping around here. We threw on a Force-restraint collar and confiscated his lightsaber."

"I believe you are about to give me a demonstration as to their brutality then, I take it?"

"That is correct Mistress." He tapped another key and released the glowing, golden-tinted forcefield that held the helpless Jedi in place.

The Jedi Knight found himself free, but unable to release the collar that was wrapped around his neck. He suddenly saw a glinting object and realized it for what it was. A vibrosword. His heart rose. He grabbed the weapon as he noticed four golden-tinted forcefields shimmered away.

"This shall prove to be most interesting," she said, as the Senators and officers nodded with some delight. It appeared this had not been the first time since they had seen something like this. _How crude and barbaric it is to witness how well these things will perform for me. It is a necessity_, she reasoned.

Gideon readied himself, as four gruesome forms raced towards him. Fearing for his life, he slash his blade horizontally, shearing away a hand from one of the creatures as the others leapt at him, eager to overwhelm him and feast on his body. He kicked one of the creatures square in the jaw as it tried to bite at him, allowing him the chance to drive the sword into the fallen humanoid's chest.

It screamed out one final time, as the other two rushed out at Gideon.

The poor Knight barely stood a chance against these things as one of the creatures' hands bore into him at his shoulder. Screaming out, Gideon drove a fist into the creature and picked up the sword, arcing it upwards and into the stomach of the amputated creature he had first struck.

Now there were two.

Gideon found himself fighting for his very life, screaming with primal rage as he swung the sword ungracefully around him, eager to thwart the creatures.

One of the humanoids began to back away, picking up a staff from one of its previous victims.

_Oh my_, Atris thought, _he's in for quite a surprise_. She couldn't help but be amused with the antics of the creatures and the flailing Jedi.

The other creature cocked its head to one side, and grinned at the Jedi as it jumped away, allowing its companion to assault the Jedi with the staff.

If Gideon had ever been caught surprised, it would have been now. He angled the sword to deflect the thrust that would have impaled him on the spot, as he noticed the other creature extend one hand out towards him, blue energy crackling to life as it came towards him. Without thinking, he ducked and rolled off to one side, taking satisfaction at hearing one of the creatures—presumably the one with the staff—scream out in pain and even more pain as its other companion continued its relentless assault with Force Lightning.

The creature had fallen into bloodlust, pouring more of its rage and frenzy into its now charred companion. It turned around, grinning with eyes burning wildly and lusting for the blood of the Jedi.

Gideon felt himself growing weaker, but he knew it was almost over. If only he could kill this last one, then he would figure out how to escape this ordeal. He was panting and out of breath as he watched the last one leap at him. Gideon didn't have his connection to the Force, but he fell back on his training, allowing his honed body to give him the edge.

The creature pounced, claws ready to tear into the flesh of the human and feast on him.

Gideon crouched and pointed his blade towards the leaping creature, to watch the blade run through it, impaling the monstrous humanoid as it leapt over him, crashing into the tired Jedi.

The creature moaned in pain as it began to gurgle blood. But before it would die, its teeth had found its way into the already sliced shoulder of the Jedi, causing the man to scream in pain and fear as the creature's life whittled away.

He knocked the creature over, feeling his muscles tear—some of it undoubtedly inside the mount of the beast—as he began to bleed profusely from the wound. He was moaning and panting as he looked up at the observation window to see several figures there. He instantly recognized two of them: the Bothan head of Republic Intelligence and the Jedi Dante had been sent to find, Atris. "Are you not happy? I defeated your beasts! Let me go free!" He yelled. He collapsed to the ground.

"Well, it would appear that the Gammas are not as effective as you claimed," Atris said to the Director, her tone revealing her amusement.

"Well, now it is time to show you the real prize, Mistress," he said, once more booming with some measure of pride.

Atris found herself growing irate at the very presence of the Director.

He once more tapped a key on the console and spoke into it. "Release the Alphas."

"Ah, now I see your intentions, Director," she said to him, her expression without a trace of humour.

Of course, the Bothan didn't realize that. He figured all Jedi—especially where Atris was concerned—were devoid of emotion. "Well," he began, his voice thick with pride, "they are by far the best. And the survivors of the first batch. We have used their modified DNA for the other vats—which are all successful and still under heavy development. Your _trainers _have personally trained the Alphas. They've learned of their skills in the Force and excel at assassination and black ops missions."

"So soon?" Atris' voice betrayed her surprise.

"Yes Mistress, and they work well together. You'll be very proud of them when you receive them today—that is, after their demonstration."

Gideon looked around and saw something shimmer around him. "More of them?" He stood up, his legs felt wobbly and he knew he was losing blood fast. He couldn't use the Force and he knew there were techniques in the Force with which there is no defence. He could only hope that his death would be quick.

Suddenly two figures emerged from thin air, they wore dark masks and only their fiery eyes and dark hair could be seen. They ignited crimson blades and walked undaunted towards him.

He felt this presence before—at one point. His eyes opened wide as he realized where he had felt their presences. Before he could even wrap his mind around this new revelation, however, his head hit the ground, along with the rest of his body.

The Alpha Assassins moved quickly and had impressed her. "Most impressive," she said to the Bothan, who seemed to take her remark to heart.

"Thank you Mistress. I trust there will be a time soon when we can remove our…_enemies_?"

"Rest assured, Director, that the time shall come swiftly. And you shall be properly rewarded—as will the rest of you," she said to the group, who nodded gratefully. "I believe now it is time for me to leave—with my new acquisitions."

"Ah yes, of course, Mistress. They shall be waiting for you at your shuttle."

"Good."

"Also," Tamar said, his voice revealing that there was something else, "I have to show you something of _interest_ to you, Mistress."

"What is it, Director?" She was growing annoyed with the Bothan and his desire to draw out this meeting as if it were something grand. She even found herself tempted to cut him down—him and that despicable smile that crept across his face every time he revealed something to her.

"You need to see the _Beta_."

This caught her off guard, but her voice belied her surprise. "Beta?"

He coughed, his pride slightly bruised from her cold expression. "Uh, yes, Mistress, the Beta."

She stood waiting for an explanation—as did the rest of the procession.

"From the first vat, we've seen few successes and many failures. Where Horn and Torn—the, ah, _Alphas_—were intrinsically exceptional in assassination and covert, cloak and dagger simulations and skills, the _Beta_ is rather gifted in the means of raw strength in the Force. And his skill with the lightsaber makes him far more deadly in open combat than the other two. Quite the irony," he said.

"You mean to tell me that this 'Beta' is far more powerful than the Alphas?" Her expression seemed most curious as to this new entity.

"Ah, yes, Mistress," he answered, his pride slowly gaining strength over him. "You see," he explained, "the one issue with the Beta—Deus—is that he is _blind_."

"Blind?"

He nodded. "We have been experimenting with the failures, in order to see if there was anything we could salvage. Right now," he gestured, "we're creating a vat of Betas, since Deus seemed to work out so well."

"How so?" She had to hide her disgust at the pitiful creature before her, as she knew that only by experimenting with these gruesome failures would she have something far more desirable for her agenda.

"Well, though Deus is blind, we outfitted him with prosthetics. His eyes are now nothing more than what appear to be permanently grafted Bothan Intelligence goggles." He couldn't help but smile at those last words. His people were aiding in something that would benefit them _and_ rid the Galaxy of a nuisance that should have died a long time ago. Truly, honour would come gloriously to his people.

"Let me see him," Atris demanded.

"Of course." He tapped another key and the shutters closed, and the observation platform shuddered slightly, revealing that they were moving upwards once more.

After a few more moments, the procession finally reached the final stage. And as the shutters opened, a man, clad in black robes and with a pair of goggles grafted to his eyes, stepped out to greet the group.

"My lady," Tamar said, his hand gesturing towards the figure that now entered the observation platform, "this is Deus."

The blind figure knelt before Atris.

"Is he ready?" She asked the Bothan.

"Yes, Mistress. He seems intent on being your personal bodyguard—he has been since the beginning."

"Bodyguard?"

"Yes. He takes your orders without question—with the exception of some of us, of course," he smiled, "but he is undeniably loyal to you."

"Good. Very well then," she said with some resignation, "we shall be leaving tonight. Keep me informed, Director."

"Of course, Mistress," Tamar bowed, as did the rest of the procession.

With that set in place, Atris left. There was much work left to be accomplished. But one of her stages was set: the Galaxy would soon find itself in a sea of flames as it relived one of its greatest nightmares in its time. And this time, Atris would be there to relish in delight over it.


	8. Allegiance

_Allegiance _

She was perched over the ledge, almost as if she were a gargoyle amongst the building in the Corellian night sky. She had waited for what seemed an eternity—but she had developed patience. 6 years did that to someone who was lost in the chasms of absolute darkness. This was far more important to her in ways than what she understood. Regardless of whether or not she liked it, her scars would remind her that she needed aid. And who better to offer aid than a leader who has inspired even their enemies to rally behind them?

She had continued to wait, allowing herself to become attuned to her surroundings—another side effect of spending 6 years exiled in absolute darkness. She felt the vibrancy of life all around her, as speeders zoomed in every direction and pedestrians walked and lived in the massive buildings that were a testament to the strength of life itself. Oddly enough, not one speeder or residency came near where her target's location, she noted.

It had been only 3 hours since her target had entered the large starscraper, which seemed to pierce the sky, almost as if it were a pentagonal sword that was held upright. And soon enough, the pad that was lit on either side revealed a black robed figure walking across to a predatory shaped shuttle. Accompanying the figure, were 5 figures—three of which appeared to be the same, though two were clad differently from the third. The other two figures were dark spectres in the Force—they were cloaked assassins that had been with the dark robed figure the entire time.

She grinned as she pieced together who the figures were—and what exactly Atris was going to do with them. _Show time_, she thought as she leapt between the two buildings, allowing the Force to guide her and slow her descent as she landed on the platform, rolling and rising.

Atris and her acquisitions turned around at the feeling of a dark presence swooping down upon them. They were rewarded with seeing a figure clad in a dark formfitting armour land in front of them.

The figure's raven black hair blew wildly in the wind, highlighting her scarred left eye, revealing green and blue eyes. Aside from her scar, she still appeared younger than Atris and would be have been found very appealing towards others. But that hardly mattered to Atris. Her black armour revealed some plated areas—most likely cortosis, though Atris couldn't be certain. It had appeared that the Mandalorians, which only made Atris' stomach clench, heavily inspired the woman's armour. Even the woman's gauntlets were designed as some form of bracers or retractable blades.

After another moment of silence passing between the trio and the figure before her, Atris finally spoke up. "What do you want?"

"I find it surprising that you do not yet know who I am, Atris. I once knew your predecessor and I was utterly loyal to her."

_She knew Traya?_ Atris contemplated as she studied the Sith in front of her. "You're not worth my time," she finally declared after a moment. "Leave now, revenge won't save you against the pain I will inflict upon you."

"Vengeance?" The figure mused. "Oh, I am not here for vengeance."

"I do not care what you are here for," Atris said firmly. She had grown aggravated with others interfering with her plans and she needed an outlet. The woman before her seemed somehow perfect for that outlet. But first, she would need to see how her new warriors performed. "Kill her," she ordered.

As the three figures moved towards her, the raven haired woman crouched, extending her right leg out and forming something akin to a bird-of-prey perched on the ground, ready to pounce on her victim. Through the Force, she felt the two cloaked bodyguards that had accompanied Atris creeping behind her. Closing her eyes, she felt the five figures coming closer to her, their weapons at the ready. In a blur, her eyes snapped open and she leaped high into the air, gathering all Force around her as she sped towards the ground, her fist crashing against the ferrocrete surface, sending two blue shockwaves around her.

Instantly, the five figures were wrapped in blue static, unable to move. The two hidden bodyguards decloaked and were enveloped by the blue static. Deus, the center presence between his brothers, moved three steps closer to the unknown woman, only to freeze as one hand reached out, almost grabbing her by the throat.

Needless to say, Atris was impressed with the woman—and the power that Deus wielded. She was slightly disappointed in the others, but she knew they would find a way to make it up to her—with the exception of her two cloaked bodyguards.

The woman revealed two crimson bladed lightsabers as they drove into the chests of the two bodyguards. She left the three engineered warriors in front of her alone, as she walked past them. "You never let me finish, Atris," she said.

"Most impressive," she said.

"As your predecessor once said: 'there are techniques in the Force against which there is no defence.'"

"So, have you come for vengeance then? To claim the mantle she had set before me?"

The lightsaber wielding woman laughed. "No, nothing that crude. You can keep the title, Mistress Traya." She bowed.

Surprised that her anger had dissipated, Atris couldn't help but smile, something that she hadn't done in a long time. "So, what do you want then?"

"I wish to serve you. There are several Jedi that I so sincerely wish to…_meet_. And I have other…_allies_, who would greatly bolster whatever it is you have in store."

"I see. So why do you pledge yourself to me?"

"Let us just say that I pledge myself to _Traya_."

"Very well," Atris said, squaring her shoulders. "I will accept you then—as you have made a very promising and impressive entry." For once in a long time, Atris was being genuine—and honest. The woman before her had made quite an interesting and impressive demonstration of her power, power that was now Atris' to control.

The woman merely bowed, the low thrumming of her lightsabers accompanied the sound of the howling air.

"And since you seem to know me so, I would like to know what _your_ name is."

She smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "My name is Lotus Xa, and I pledge my loyalty to you, Darth Traya."


	9. Disturbances

_Disturbances _

"_We've spent the last two days combing over the facility. There is no sign of Atris, Master Jace_," the pint-sized blue-hued Dante said inside the Council Chambers.

"I understand, Dante," the dark-skinned man replied, nodding his head grimly. "And what of the artifacts?"

"_It would appear that many—if not, most—of the artifacts are here. The only ones missing are the Sith holocrons. Cyrin, I was led to believe that they were stolen by Malak or destroyed in the Enclave._"

"So was I, Dante. It would appear that Atris knew of them for a long time—perhaps she even took them. What is your current status?"

"_We ran into one of her…Disciples… He was well armed and skilled in the ways of the Jedi Arts. He was obviously ordered the wait there for us—or anyone who made their way into the Hidden Academy. Cyrin, it was Mical. It turned out he was strong in the Force—far stronger than I could have ever imagined._"

"Where is he now?"

"_He is dead. I was forced to kill him or risk losing the life of my Padawan and myself—and any hope of retrieving the artifacts. There were too many deaths already,_" his voice had a twinge of regret at the death of the man, but it also contained the fierce protectionist view he held over Rena and himself.

"Before he died, did he make any attempt to say where Atris is now?"

"_No, he didn't. But Mical referred to someone as _Traya_. I have a suspicion it may yet be Atris. I fear she will never return to the Master she once was, and what's more, she may have joined the Sith._"

"The past war has consumed much of the Jedi—I am not surprised it has even taken some of the Masters," Cyrin Jace said quietly. The other members sat quietly within the chambers, listening attentively to Dante's report. "Dante," he said after a few moments, "return here with the artifacts. Download whatever information you can from the Academy and let Admiral Onasi deal with the facility in whatever way he feels fit to. Perhaps we may yet learn the whereabouts of Atris—or this _Traya_."

"_Very well, Master_," Dante replied. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "_has there been any news of the Senate's decision with the Jedi Order?_"

Jace sighed, stroking his chin as he replied. "The Senate has continued to grow complacent—but there has been no decision as to what their intentions are towards the Order. Several Senators have grown complacent and Chancellor Dodonna is doing her best to keep order within the Senate. We've also received word from the ambassadors from Kashyyyk that there is a situation developing there. We've dispatched Frreral to investigate—he should be back here shortly."

"_Very well,_" Dante replied. "_Has there been any news from Gideon?_"

"No," Ash said, "and we do not know what has happened to him. Chancellor Dodonna tells us that Director Gran'gerst reports a disturbance within that area—but apparently CorSec is handling it. I do not fully trust that one's intentions, but Dodonna surely is telling us the truth." He paused for a moment. "From someone's point of view," he added quickly.

"_Hmm, I'll arrive to Coruscant within three days. Dante out._" With that, the image faded away.

Jace turned to the others in the room and sighed. "We need to have a meeting with Dodonna and find out which Senators are causing this ruckus against us. And we will need to move quickly, if the Order is to survive."

"Do you think this Traya is responsible for causing dissent within the Senate?" Tarn asked.

"It seems too convenient—but we have been too isolated since Sion and Nihilus' assault," Ash said thoughtfully. "And surely Kreia is not alive—Theresa said she had made certain of that."

"Perhaps she hasn't been telling the truth," Sneed suggested.

"Or perhaps another one has taken up the mantle of Traya," Len suggested alternatively.

"It is also possible that Kreia may have survived the ordeal on Malachor V—and is now seeking retribution," Tarn added as he noticed the others continued to speculate.

"Regardless of whether or not any of these are true, we still need to determine who is behind these startling chain of events," Jace said, returning to the point. "If Kreia still lives—or the mantle of Traya, for that matter—we must seek to end it before we reach whatever goal she or he seeks to achieve. The list of our enemies is growing larger everyday."


	10. Wookiee Rage

_Wookiee Rage _

The golden-furred wookiee felt good, knowing that he had returned to his home once more. It had been far too long since Frreral had returned to Kashyyyk. He looked as far as the eye could see at the beautiful night sky, as the stars peppered the sky above him, the cool fresh air delighting his nostrils as he breathed it in. He could feel the vibrancy of life as it flowed around the planet, as nature had found its own balance with the wookiees and the dangerous Shadowlands.

The wroshyr trees stood tall and proud, as its leaves shook gently, making soft sounds and whistles in the air reminding Frreral of what he missed of his home. He even met members of his family before he met with the Chieftain, Freyyr, to discuss what the situation was.

It appeared that groups of promising warriors and even veteran warriors had gone down into the Shadowlands for hunting—but all of them never returned. Soon even small searching parties were sent out, but even they didn't return. Whatever had been found in the Shadowlands had certainly caused many wookiees never to return—and that even included Frreral's father.

Breathing deeply, Frreral prepared himself as many other wookiees accompanied him, guiding him down into the Shadowlands. For years, the wookiees had fostered a great relationship with the Jedi, and now Frreral—one of their own—returned to aid his brothers, and prove that the relationship with the Jedi had not been forgotten.

One of the wookiees, a younger dark furred guide, informed him that they were approaching the final descent.

Frreral nodded and breathed deeply, centering himself as he felt the tumultuous vibrations of the Force. The Dark Side seemed to thrive in the Shadowlands—and it seemed to be a lot stronger and ranker than he had remembered during his previous treks into the dark place. He moved one furry paw towards his belt—the only visible sign of clothing— and unhooked the lightsaber that rested there.

As the lift shuddered as it touched on the ground, Frreral looked at his companions, all of whom were carrying bowcasters, and nodded. "Thank you for the lift, brothers," he said, as he left the lift and nodded to them to leave.

They wasted no time in making their way up. It seemed that this was something that called for the strength of more than a wookiee. A wookiee Jedi seemed a natural answer.

Frreral began to tread through the dark covered forest, passing through the murky puddles of water and the desiccated remains of hunts from centuries past. He felt the waves of the Dark Side surround him, and ignoring it was all he could do to suppress a shudder. _This place is rank with the Dark Side_, he thought. _I better tread carefully, there's no telling what could have become twisted in this power. I feel nothing but disturbances in the Force._

He passed through a rocky dale, and tread through, sensing nothing but elusive presences. He knew there were small primates that hung around the area, but they were harmless. What bothered him was that they all seemed to be drawn to him, almost as if he were a pillar of light in the darkness around them. More importantly, they seemed to be fleeing away from where he was heading, which led him to believe that he was on the right track. Yet, he could still feel a dark presence that forced him to suppress his fears and to ignore the tingling feeling he had at the base of his spine.

He paused for a moment as a scent wafted its way towards his nostrils, causing his primate-like face to scrunch up into an expression of disgust. He instantly recognized the scent: decomposing bodies. He walked up a bit further before he noticed a pile of decomposing wookiees. _Oh sith_--, he thought as he was cut off by a loud piercing growl and a large and heavy arm sent him flying into the nearest trunk of a large wroshyr tree.

As he collided with the trunk, he shook his head and realized his lightsaber had left his hand. He also noticed a large, green, bipedal and heavily armoured creature that stood before him. "Great," he moaned, "it's a Terentatek." He rolled over to one side as the creature came at him, eager to crush him. He closed his eyes and felt the familiar cold tingle of his lightsaber in his hands, as his eyes snapped open once more and a golden blade came forth from the hilt.

Frreral couldn't help but smile.

The Dark Side creature couldn't care less about the wookiee's weapon and grin, as it charged towards him once more, eager to tear its teeth into his precious body.

Calling on the Force to spring him high over his foe, Frreral leapt over the creature, spiraling around and arcing his golden blade to slice into the creature's hide, causing it to scream out as the precious thrumming of the lightsaber made its glorious song.

Rolling off to the side, Frreral quickly rose and ushered the Force into his hand and sending the creature crashing into the nearest tree, while he continued to repeatedly hurl the Force at the creature, wearing it down.

The creature screamed, and clapped its hands together, sending Frreral flying into the corpses of his comrades.

The wookiee rose and sent out a warcry as he rushed the creature head-on.

The terentatek did the same.

Anticipating the Dark Side creature to swipe at him, Frreral lunged and curled his body as he rolled on the ground, narrowly missing the creature's swing. As Frreral rose out of the crouch he spun about and swung out with his blade, catching the terentatek through its plated chest, the scent of seared flesh began to waft around the pair.

The creature screamed as it felt the hot bite of the blade tear into its chest, as slash after slash made its way across its chest.

Frreral continued unabated, arcing his blade in a horizontal circle, slicing off both of the beast's arms and driving the golden blade into the chest of the terentatek, ending its life and howling screams.

He felt the shuddering and pass of the creature's life, and felt a void open up in the Force, dissipating some of the Dark Side around the Shadowlands. "I bid you adieu," he said softly—or what would be considered softly for a wookiee—as he deactivated the shaft of golden energy.

He felt a small stinging pain as he hooked his lightsaber to his belt and noticed he was bleeding. He had been pierced with the bone of one of the fallen wookiees when he had been sent there via the terentatek's Force shove. He noticed that the blood had begun to mat some of his fur where he had been pierced.

He shook his head. "Seems you landed a powerful blow yourself," he said to the fallen beast. His head shot up as he felt several powerful tremors in the Force—right behind him. He realized then that the terentatek had not been the cause of deaths—a warrior would have handled the creature. The presences behind him had to have been the cause of deaths of the wookiees. And those presences were obviously feeding off of the Dark Side energy within the Shadowlands.

He spun about as quickly as he could, his lightsaber found its way in his hand as the golden shaft of energy shot forth. He suddenly found himself flying away quickly, but he managed to steal a glance at what those massive Force presences were: three deformed humanoids with malevolent grins widely spread across their gruesome features.

_Aberrations of the Living Force_, he thought as he crashed against a rocky outcropping. His lightsaber left his hand and deactivated, falling somewhere around the pile of corpses. All air exploded from his lungs as his vision went black for a moment, only to regain itself as his eyes noticed the three forms staring down at him.

He heard one of the voices speak in a strange dialect—almost as if it were Mandalorian or something else. Another voice—identical to the first—replied instantly. There was something subtle about this one, almost as if it had control over the other two—and yet their presences were familiar. Frreral couldn't be sure where he had known them, but he knew that killing them would be a favour he should grant.

He would have to act first and quickly, especially since he could feel their desire to feast on him. He felt for control of his hands—which seemed perfectly fine—and shot them up, sending the three flying back and far away from him.

On instinct, he rose, growling in anger as his lightsaber found its way back into his hand. He ignited the blade and poised himself as the three leapt at him head-on. Death was becoming a reality he couldn't face yet.

If he were killed now, the Order wouldn't know what kind of threat these creatures were—and it was possible they were fellow Jedi who became test subjects for some cruel Jedi-designed viral weapon. Frreral knew that if he were to die, another Jedi would be sent here and would probably join the same fate. The wookiee knew that he wouldn't let that happen. He'd make sure to take these creatures down with him, if it came to that.

They revealed their claws as they came flying at him.

He brought his lightsaber up; he would kill them if necessary—and it seemed too likely he would have to face that reality.

And in a blur, he arced his blade around him, only to watch the three figures go flying away from him, where one of the hapless creatures were sliced in half by Frreral's golden blade.

A dark-cloaked figure leapt out from the shadows and slashed at one of the fallen humanoids with an emerald coloured lightsaber, as it thrummed its song of death, shearing away an arm of the final beast and decapitating it in one final stroke.

Frreral poised himself for an attack and merely said, "thanks for the help. Who are you?"

The calm and gruff voice replied, "What is it with you wookiees and trying to kill me? I am no enemy—I mean you no harm. I am an old ally of the Jedi." He chuckled softly before adding, "no pun intended."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Frreral said fiercely, surprised that this figure understood Shyriiwook.

The cloaked figure turned around, a hood over their face and deactivated their lightsaber, clipping it to their belt. With both hands, the figure removed the hood, to reveal an old dark skinned man that bore a strange resemblance to Cyrin Jace. He had a snow-white goatee and smiled when he introduced himself. "I am Jolee Bindo, who are you—and what in the blazes were _they_?"


	11. Audience

_Audience _

Chancellor Dodonna sat in her office within 500 Republica Avenue. The austere office had seen better times, as she continued to rummage through approving initiatives to rebuild planets within the Republic. Thankfully, due in part to the Jedi and Onasi's brave stand, Telos's success had breathed new funding and new life into the Republic. Unfortunately, the Jedi Order had still found itself on the verge of collapse after 3 wars within a 50-year time span.

She sighed as she remembered that fateful battle against the Starforge. The Republic thought they had won—but had only ended up defeating the military aspects of the Sith. The Sith, as a cult, continued their silent war against the Jedi specifically, wiping them out and forcing the Galaxy to turn against its most prominent guardians of peace and justice.

And once more, it was coming back to the Galaxy selling out the Jedi for peace.

_When did things get so complicated?_ She thought as she spotted her half-empty glass of Corellian whiskey. She picked it up and sipped it, allowing the amber liquid to swish within her mouth, taking in the scent and taste of the premium alcohol. As she placed the glass back on her desk, she allowed one hand to fly through her already silver hair. She had begun to develop grey hair during the Jedi Civil War—it had only peppered her hair at that point. Now the grey had turned to silver and that silver had become the only colour in her hair.

Even at her age, the woman appeared regal and undeniably handsome. She was a beacon of hope and a leader of the Galactic Republic that had now fallen in darker times.

Suddenly there came a beeping sound and she tapped a key on her console. "Yes?"

"_Madame Chancellor, there is a group of Jedi here saying that they have a meeting with you."_

_Is it time already?_ She shook her head and spoke into the channel. "All right, send them in," she replied before her thumb left the key. The doors hissed open and revealed three Jedi: Masters Cyrin Jace, Ash Merrick and Len Vizta. "Ah, Masters, what can I do for you?" She greeted them, smiling softly, particularly at Cyrin Jace.

If any of the others noticed, they didn't make any mention of it.

Cyrin nodded and returned the smile. "Chancellor," he began, "I think it is time we discussed some things."

Her expression grew puzzled. "I am not sure what you mean, Master Jace."

The three Masters sat down in front of her desk and Ash decided he should answer. "We know the Senate is growing bolder and that they've begun allegations against the Order, demonizing us and holding us directly responsible for the events of the last 50 years."

Dodonna nodded her head, she could never lie to the Jedi. She had worked alongside them and knew that they were the Galaxy's best hope for peace. "There have been some _elements_ within the Senate that have been calling for the Jedi to aid the Galaxy or be removed from known space altogether. Many have been growing wary and suspicious of the Order since the Jedi Civil War—and Revan's disappearance didn't help either."

"We are still limited in numbers—we only have a few active Knights and they number in the single digits," Len said, his voice sincere and pleading.

"And there are only us 3 who are all that is left of the leadership," Ash said. "Not to mention, we've lost contact with two of our Knights."

"Masters, I understand, however the Senate wants to enact a bill that will gather all Force-sensitives and have you give them a 'crash course' and send them out into the Galaxy."

"Chancellor," Cyrin began, "with all due respect, hasn't the Senate seen what a 'crash course' in the Force has done to the Galaxy? The Jedi Order has gone through three wars in such a short time span—we've lost most, if not all, of our active Knights. Many have chosen not to return, the Dark Side has consumed others and the rest have merely gone silent—never to return. If there is another war—by the Senate's declaration or by the Sith Remnant—we will not be able to participate. We're keepers of the peace, not soldiers. We cannot manufacture Jedi more than you can manufacture worlds within a short time span."

Dodonna sighed, throwing a loose strand of hair away from her view. "Masters, the Senators want an assurance that the Jedi still exist and care about the welfare of the Republic's people."

"They already have it," Len said. "What is it they really want?"

"They want to ensure that we will never have another Exar Kun, or another Revan."

"And how do they propose that?" Ash's eyes narrowed, as he didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"Some of those elements within the Senate have come to me as another interest group—one that proposes the Jedi activities become open to the public once more or the Republic faces declaring the Jedi Order enemies of the state."

"Enemies?" Cyrin's expression grew grim and all the more serious—if that were even possible. "All because they want the Jedi Order—as sparse as it is—to resume its mandate?"

"Yes, Cyrin. Even some members of that interest group have begun drafting plans for the creation of a _new_ Jedi Order for the Republic, if you are not willing to cooperate."

"But where would they get the funding—and the initiates, as well as instructors?"

"Apparently, they already have the funding. They are the wealthiest systems in the Republic—untouched by the wars. That also means that the restoration initiatives will ultimately fail, resulting in the end of the Republic. And as for initiates—they have come up with a list. And it is even likely they already have some of your less than _admirable_ brethren who will instruct the initiates. "

"The Sith?" Len managed to gasp. "Chancellor, with all due respect, _who_ are these members?"

She sighed. "Unfortunately, I cannot tell you—they won't even reveal their names to me. They send aides and other figures to do their bidding. And suffice it to say, that if these systems declare their hostilities towards the Jedi—then the Republic faces one of two choices: eliminate the Jedi Order or face dissolving."

Cyrin glanced at his companions and had the final word. "Very well, Chancellor Dodonna, you will soon have the aid of the Jedi Order, but for now, we must be given some more time." _I do not like where this is heading at all,_ he couldn't help but think. _And what's more, if these Senators are willing to deal with the Sith, then the Galaxy will be at stake—especially if Atris has joined them._

"I wish I had better news, Masters," she said emphatically, knowing full well that the Jedi had been sent to the brink of destruction time and again, and that this time, the Jedi Order may very well perish.

Cyrin turned to another matter—one that also seemed to give the Jedi an advantage, even if they were backed into the corner as it already were. "Seeing how the Jedi Order will resume its mandate to the Republic, we would like some information regarding a matter prevalent to the Order and the Republic's welfare."

"Of course, anything," she replied.

He knew that this was the only way they could diplomatically learn anything before they took matters in their hands once more—which had proven disastrous the last two times. He also knew that Len and Ash were curious as to what he was thinking. "As you know, we've lost contact with _two_ of our Knights in Corellia."

She nodded, listening attentively.

Ash remained stoic and Len could only wonder where Cyrin was going with this.

"They were investigating the possibility of new _initiates_ and wandered into an unknown Republic facility and apparently Tamar Gran'gerst has not been forthcoming with any knowledge of this place."

"I see. What is it you would like me to do then, Master Jace?"

"The Jedi Council would like to request—in the mutual advantages of both the Republic and the Jedi Order—that we are given all information on this facility."

"Of course," she nodded, causing Ash and Len to glance at one another in disbelief. "In fact, Tamar is already here."

"Director Gran'gerst is here?" Ash asked, his voice revealing his guarded mien.

"That is correct Master Merrick," she replied. "We will soon get to the bottom of this—and the sooner, the better."

Cyrin's mien was even harder to read—the man seemed impassive, almost as if he were nothing more than a carving.

The doors hissed open and closed as the shadow of a figure covered over the dark-skinned man.

"Ah, Director Gran'gerst," Chancellor Dodonna greeted, "I believe you are aware of Masters Merrick, Vizta and Jace?"

"Yes," the Bothan said, bowing in front of the Jedi Masters. "I had the privilege of serving under Master Merrick during the Hapes campaign during the Jedi Civil War."

The silver-haired Master merely nodded. "Yes, I remember having several disagreements with you based on how best to accomplish several combat scenarios, Director," he stated matter-of-factly. "Congratulations on your promotion to Republic Intelligence, Director," the Master added, almost as if it were an afterthought.

Len stifled a giggle, while Cyrin continued to remain as vigilant as ever.

"Let us get straight to the point," Cyrin began, "as you are undoubtedly aware, two of our Knights are--,"

"Missing, yes, I know, Master Jace," Tamar said, cutting off the Master. "I am sorry, but I have the news of the other one too." He slowly, almost regretfully, produced an intricately crafted lightsaber from his robes, moving towards Len, handing it to him and quickly stepping back to where he had been but a moment earlier.

"Where did you find it?" Ash asked, as Len continued to roll the lightsaber around in his palm, mulling over the fate of his former apprentice.

"We found it within the more…_seedier_ element of Corellia. I'm sorry Masters, but it seems that Master Fallout was killed—along with three of my own Intelligence Officers and 2 CorSec Officers as well."

"What was he doing there?" Ash continued asking.

Cyrin continued to probe the Bothan's thoughts with the Force, seeking the truth from the Director. It appeared as if the Bothan had been trained in the mental disciplines of the Echani—as Cyrin continued to feel nothing but desires of the flesh roll off the mind of the Director. Most of those thoughts were directed at the Chancellor, and as hard as it was, Cyrin maintained his stoic composure, lest he found his weapon embedded within the chest of the Director.

"Well, there were some illegal activities found in the area—activities from the—the Exchange," the Bothan replied.

"Hmm, well it is unfortunate that we've lost Gideon," Ash said softly, his voice betraying no emotion. "At least the Exchange's illegal activities are no longer a threat, as you say, _Director_."

"Yes, thanks to the support of Master Fallout."

Growing tired of the banter, and the Bothan's irksome presence, Cyrin rose and faced the camel-faced humanoid. "We would like to see a facility both of our Knights were sent to investigate. It's a _Republic_ military facility located on Corellia—near the political district."

The Bothan's fur bristled slightly, however he maintained a calm expression. "Of course, Master Jace," he said solemnly, bowing.

"Excellent," Cyrin replied. He turned to Dodonna, "Chancellor, it is always a pleasure."

"You too, Cyrin—and Masters." She managed to hide the embarrassment by rising, clearing her throat and bowing long enough to hear the doors hiss open and hiss closed.

She looked to see an empty room and sighed. _When did things become so complicated?_ She sat down and resumed reading the reports, sipping her whiskey. She paused for a moment and thought, _when did I develop a taste for Corellian whiskey?_


	12. Alliances

_Alliances _

Shortly after their vessel had landed, both Jolee and Frreral entered the five-spire Temple.

"Ah, it's been a long time since I've been to Coruscant," the smaller figure mumbled.

"You've been here before?" Frreral asked.

"Of course, but I'm not surprised that you wouldn't know," he said. "I've been here since before you were born—which reminds me, how old are you anyway?"

"43," he said.

"43? and you're still a Knight?"

"Like you, I began to learn to read two sides to the story—and I've retained the rank of Knight for almost 20 years."

The older Master could only whistle. "I achieved rank of Master at the age of 30—a feat few have ever managed."

"Master Jace attained the rank of Master and Council member at the age of 29, the youngest Master ever," Frreral replied.

"You kids and your music," the old man could only mumble.

Frreral couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

"Everyone's a Jedi Knight these days," he muttered.

"Not quite true," a familiar voice said. "There are more Bounty Hunters and Mercenaries than Jedi Knights these days."

"Ash?" The old Jedi looked at the calm, composed figure standing in front of him and the wookiee. "Is that you?"

"Of course, I'm the only one that decided to stick around for the Jedi."

"Sad to say, I'd imagine, huh?" Jolee asked, lightly nodding his head.

"Unfortunately yes. Things may have changed, but the Jedi Order is on the mend."

"So our mutual friend here says," Jolee said, indicating Frreral.

"Come, you must be tired and have much to ask," Ash said, ushering both Jedi to come to the Council Chambers.

"Heh, some things never change," Jolee said. "Offer hospitality, but first we make our way to the Council—that is, if there still is one?"

"There is, though it entails most of us able-bodied Jedi. And there's someone you might recognize, who is the head of the Council."

"I felt his presence the moment I entered the Temple—I must say, he's done quite well. Calm too, that one—even if he flirts with the Dark Side."

As the trio entered the Council Chambers, Jolee stopped in awe at the figure that sat before him. He couldn't help but smile—as it seemed all he was capable of at the moment.

"Master Bindo?" Cyrin exclaimed as he rose from his seat.

"Cyrin," he finally mustered, "it's been a long time."

"Indeed it has, my former Master."

The others in the Council—Tarn, Len, Dante, Frreral and Sneed—were surprised at the presence of one of the most famous Jedi Masters in the annals of the Jedi Order. It even shocked them that this was the one who had trained the hard-as-nails Master Cyrin Jace.

What Dante—and presumably the others—found most curious was that, to some degree, Jolee seemed to bare an odd resemblance to Cyrin. He chose not to say anything, as he noticed both Masters were surprised—and perhaps glad—to see one another.

"Perhaps it is best that we talk later," Cyrin said. "We still have to finish this…meeting. Take a seat, Master Bindo," he said, offering a seat next to him.

The trio found their respective seat and began to listen to the discussion.

"Please continue, Dante," Cyrin said.

"The artifacts are in the archives now, but there is still the matter of Atris. Rena and I downloaded whatever we could from the databank before Telosian Security Force officials began to investigate the Academy. From the records, which weren't much, we've determined that Atris had eliminated all records of her ever being there. In fact, all we have is Mical meditating and training—before he engaged the TSF squadron. The other artifacts have not been tampered with. In fact, most of them have not been used in quite some time."

"So we still do not know the presence of Atris?"

"That is correct, Ash," Dante replied. "There is no indication of where she might have gone."

"Or if she still lives," Len suggested.

"Well, if she does live—as Traya or as herself—she will have much to answer for," Cyrin said flatly. He sighed and after a moment he spoke up. "Tamar Gran'gerst is delaying with the location of the facility—and I think it is safe to say that we don't want any other losses to the Order."

"Could he be behind the disappearances of Gideon and Toll?" Tarn asked.

"It is possible—I felt _something_ emanate from him. And he has learned extensive mental disciplining. He was hiding something during our meeting."

"And what of the Senators?" Ash inquired.

"We still do not yet know who they are. I sense something elusive—almost as if someone is planning the destruction of the Jedi _and_ the Galaxy." Cyrin sighed.

"What about Dantooine?" Jolee inquired.

"Dantooine?" Dante asked.

"There must be some artifacts, let alone some answers, hidden there—last I heard, the Enclave was rebuilt," he explained.

"Only to have the Masters killed by Traya," Sneed rebuked.

"However, it does pose a possibility—the rebuilt Enclave would have some form of Jedi-encrypted security codes. If there is anything there, only the Jedi could enter the Enclave," Len suggested.

"Or former Jedi," Ash finished.

"Either way," Cyrin said, "it still merits a search."

The other Jedi merely nodded.

"Dante," Cyrin said at last, "you will go to Dantooine to search for anything that will give us clues to Atris' disappearance—and the whereabouts of this Sith Remnant. Rena will stay here and continue to comb through the Telos Archives."

"Very well," the Knight replied.

"Now," Cyrin began, turning to Frreral, his eyes shifting towards Jolee every now and again, "what exactly occurred on Kashyyyk?"

* * *

The _Leviathan_ orbited the Outer Rim world of Utapau, waiting for the number of carrier groups that had sworn allegiance to their new leader. As always, Atris found herself lost in thought, wondering when she had made the decision to become the new Traya. The holocrons accompanied her on board the vessel she had managed to scrounge from a floating graveyard—presumably where the Starforge had once been.

Like the Mandalorian Wars, Atris had never participated in the Jedi Civil War, though she was forced to slay several Dark Jedi as she made her way into self-imposed exile. Once more, she had saved the holocrons that had become her Masters. The ghosts of the holocrons ceased once she began to learn the limitless powers and ways of the Sith, as her eyes were opened by her predecessor, Darth _Traya_. Soon, she became the _Master_ and the ghosts of the holocrons ceased to exist.

Her mind had turned towards the figure that had accompanied her predecessor and Theresa Falcus—the one known as the Exile. He had been far too easy to convert—especially since he returned to the Academy with the hopes of finishing her off. But as always, the desires in one's heart tended to be their utmost and most pivotal downfalls. It had been recorded in the annals of history, and so once more, Mical the Disciple had fallen to every word that came from her cold thin lips.

_To think_, she grinned maliciously, _the fool actually thought he had come to finish me off—granting both her _and_ I some form of ease. He was too easy to manipulate—the feelings in his heart—for _her_—were such a blessing that it only took a few moments to help him realize his potential at my side. _She scoffed, as it echoed throughout the room, joining in the rhythmic humming of the ship's engines.

_And all it took was removing his eyes to make him _see_ that she would only continue to use him for her own devices. Now, he has completed all the useful tasks for me and he is undoubtedly awaiting that unfulfilled promise of the Exile's return. It is a shame that he will not be around to see her return. Telos shall once again fall into the lifeless planet it once was, despite the Republic's pitiful attempts to revive life from lifelessness. _She sighed, soothed as she focused her mind on the gentle and monotonous gyrations of the warship's engines.

It surprised her that the _Leviathan_ had been left relatively untouched in the final battle that determined the fate of the Republic and the Sith Empire. Something about the history—and her past as the historian of the Jedi Archives—of the vessel called to her. It somehow seemed appropriate to use the former flagship of the Sith to be the new flagship of the remaining Sith that had sworn loyalty to her. Now the fools had all joined her—save for one. But that one would be on his way soon; real soon.

The bridge was empty, converted into nothing but her personal throne room, from which to command her legions of Sith—the legions of fools who had sworn their lives to her. The light had dimmed to a point where the room was a shade of blue, where only the minute switches and beeps would flash every now and again. The crew was stationed in the auxiliary bridge, eager to obey their new Master's wishes. The silence and solace that was afforded to her didn't bother her in the slightest; in fact, she had grown fond of it during her time in Telos.

In the darkest recesses of space, one could find himself wondering about anything in the Galaxy. Atris, on the other hand, found herself wondering how a historian of the Jedi could ever have amassed an army as large as this. How could she have amassed something that would force the Republic to turn to what she had created—to unleash its unholy presence into the Galaxy, consuming it into a fiery death? Atris closed her eyes, and felt her anger wash over, covering every doubt—every inch of remorse—as one name had called out to her.

_Revan_.

It had all started because of _Revan_, and no one—not even the Jedi Remnant—could stop what she would unleash into the Galaxy.

Once more, a beeping switch had awoken her from those thoughts that kept her company. Her eyes opened and she began to walk towards a control terminal and tapped a key on the console. "Yes?"

"Lord Cain and his company have arrived in-system. His flagship is stating that he is on his way via shuttle, Mistress."

"Arrogant fool," she muttered. "All right, I'll be on my way shortly, Traya out." She sighed and shook her head as she walked out of her throne room, making her way to the hangar bay—eager to seal this new alliance. As her predecessor had once said, _To be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best_.

Shortly after she had made it towards the hangar, with Horn and Torn on either side of her, followed closely by Deus, Atris saw two figures and a group of Sith elite soldiers standing at attention, clad in their crimson and black armour.

"Ah, Mistress Traya, I presume," the older of the two figures said. He bowed, as did his apprentice. He was clad in the finest clothes, as he wore a velvet armourweave cape around him, covering his deep velvet tunic and breeches. His hair was slick back and was silver; he somehow appeared youthful and exuberant, something which many Sith in his wizened age seemed to lack—as well as his height, which allowed him to tower over the woman and even her personal guards. "Allow me to introduce myself," he said, "I am Dietrich Cain, and this," turning to his side, stood another figure, "is my apprentice—Sebastian Marseilles."

Marseilles merely bowed. He was a quiet man, slightly shorter than his Master; his dark eyes betrayed the darkness within him, revealing that this was someone to be avoided when walking through dark alleys. He wore black robes, with Fibermesh armour outlining his chest and torso. Along his left hip dangled a long lightsaber hilt—Atris assumed that this man was trained to wield a double-edged lightsaber. She would certainly enjoy watching how he performed against her assassins and even Deus. The Beta was certainly powerful in the Force—and his skill with a blade was rumoured to be unparalleled. Or so Tamar had said.

"What is it you seek, Dietrich Cain?" She asked sharply. She did not like it when others interrupted her just to impress her. Persons tended to go missing and bodies would start to show up on planets much later on.

"With your permission, I would like my fleet to join yours, so that we may crush our mutual enemies, once and for all."

"Then consider yourself a commander of a fleet—namely yours. Just be ready when the time is right, _Darth_ Cain. I'll call upon your skills shortly, for our time will be at hand." Atris began to walk away, startling even the older Jedi and his apprentice.

"Is that it, milady?" Cain asked, slightly flattered he would be honoured with the title of _Darth_, yet disappointed that she would merely cast a glance his way. He _did_ bring a fleet of Sith followers, after all.

"Were you expecting a ceremony? Consider yourself lucky you caught me in a good mood, Lord Cain—otherwise I would have ordered my fleet to eliminate your shuttle while traversing the depths of space. I will not be so forgiving next time. Oh," she added, "dispatch one of your cruisers to Dantooine—ensure that the rebuilt Enclave is destroyed, along with any traces of the Jedi there." With that she left, not caring how the Sith felt, but understanding that he would now do everything in his power to take over. His humiliation would force him to be loyal to her for a long time, playing out his own game until he felt ready to eliminate her and ascend. _He will never live to see the day—but I have uses for his fleet—and him for the time being_, she thought to herself, as her ultimate goal began to take shape. Soon the day would come when the Republic and the Jedi Order would be decimated—along with the Galaxy.

As Darth Traya had said, a year ago—_to be united by hatred is a fragile alliance at best_. Atris had no intention of allowing anyone feel that they were on par with _her_—not even her new assassin: Lotus Xa. Those who deluded themselves into thinking that they were on equal terms with the Dark Mistress of the Sith, would soon find themselves floating in the dark recesses of space. And very soon, many would be found floating in space.


	13. Lest We Forget

_Lest we Forget _

Shortly after the _Vaapad_ landed on the worn and eroded landing pad in the Enclave, Dante had begun his search for artifacts. Perhaps even tombs lay about. He felt the cool air whistle around him, knowing full well that this felt more like a tomb—a tomb of the Jedi. Closing his eyes, he remembered the last time he had come to the planet, some 6-7 years back. He remembered the calm and mysterious Masters—including another hard-as-nails Master: Vrook.

_There is no death, there is the Force_, his mind whispered, a blessing and a mantra to those who were lost during the war—including those who were killed after. _Their sacrifice would not be in vain_, he vowed, as he opened his eyes, pulling his coat closer to his chest. He walked towards the old entrance, tapping a few keys onto the terminal, and a smile played across his face as the doors unlocked.

He felt the air rush out towards him, embracing the memories of those who once roamed these hallways. He sighed and began his journey into the dark tomb.

Surprisingly, he found the Enclave in favourable shape, considering that it was destroyed and rebuilt. He walked through the old Council room, brushing aside dust and cobwebs as he remembered fondly of the old and diminutive Master Vandar and other Masters, such as Zhar and Kavar.

He walked through the adjoining chambers, and noticed the old workbench, terminal and tables. _Things didn't have to be this way_, he thought, as he knew that everyone he had met on this planet had died, with the exception of Frreral. The old wookiee had a lot of fight in him left and in these times, there would undoubtedly be a lot more fighting. _So much for the new era of peace and justice_, he sighed.

Dante walked through the Enclave for several hours, combing through places he had went through already, rekindling the fond, yet short-lived, memories he had of the Dantooine Enclave. As he made his way into the sub-level, he found nothing but the dried husks of Laigreks and the bones of many humanoids—possibly salvagers, Jedi and farmers. Passing through them, he continued to find nothing, but old swords, chairs and tables strewn across the floors in several rooms.

When Malak came, he came in force, and that would have inevitably led the people within the Enclave to run for their lives—shoving aside others as well. Unfortunately, they would never have counted on the _then_ Dark Lord of the Sith to send in brigades of ground forces to lay waste to anything surrounding the area—eliminating survivors.

He entered a small grove within the Enclave and saw three decomposed bodies lying together. In their hands were the hilts of lightsabers. The Jedi ran to the skeletal figures and realized from their clothes and hilts that these were the remains of the Jedi Masters Vrook, Kavar and Zez-Kai Ell. He closed his eyes and whispered the calming mantra. _There is no death, there is the Force._ After some time, he began to dig holes for the figures, burying them near the rear entrance of the Enclave. Their lightsabers went with them. After a few moments, Dante resumed his course, to search through the final chamber.

The Jedi continued to walk through the final chamber, only to gasp as he entered. The final chamber had been the sparring room where he had seen _Rin Mesa._ He walked over, noticing that most of the room had been heavily damaged, with debris still cast around the room. He tread slowly down the small set of stairs, as he walked over to where the blue Twi'lek had once stood, dueling the young Padawan Tun Kira. His hands found its way to the last remaining memory of her—the lightsaber he now wielded.

He looked down and rolled it around in his gloved hands, taking care to look over every scratch, every minute detail on the blade. His breathing came heavy as he remembered her smile, the way her lips tasted and the sweet fragrance of her skin. His closed his eyes as he felt the remains in his heart continue to tear apart at the seams. Clenching his teeth and fighting back the tears that eagerly sought its release, he remembered the words she had said to him, after the events of searching for the Unifying Force. _You have to be strong,_ she had said, _and live on for the both of us. There will come a time when we shall be together soon._ She had said that to him months after she had passed away at the hands of Lotus Xa, who found her own demise at the hands of Dante—and at the bottom of the tunnel in some nameless planet.

He remembered those words—he found solace at the bottom of a bottle, continuing to drink and fight away the Force. It wasn't until Frreral had found him and taken him to the Temple on Coruscant, that Rin had come to him in the vision. It was no dream—she had spoken to him in the grove that he found so peaceful. After that, he had sworn to live on for her—and soon enough, Rena came to him, and helped him find peace after all. Without Rin, Frreral and Rena, Dante didn't know if he would have survived as long as he had.

"I'll continue, Rin," he whispered, "for as long as I have breath in me, I will continue to pass on what I've learned. For you, for Rena and for the Galaxy." With that, he walked out of the Enclave, knowing full well that it was no longer a secret Academy, but a tomb. As he entered through the back, he felt the tug of the Force around him. He could feel a presence further into the hills, calling him.

Somehow, it felt calm and serene, nothing like a dark presence, yet it also contained a fiery warrior's impression. It soothed him and called to him. The Jedi passed through the fields, undaunted and unharmed, as Kath hounds were nowhere to be seen—or felt. He knew that no one from Khoonda or salvagers would harm him; no one seemed to be around for several miles. The Enclave was nothing more than a bad memory for the people of Dantooine.

As he passed a small ledge, he noticed an old grove with a stone engraving. He walked towards the grove and saw a lightsaber covered by the field. He picked it up and looked at the engraving.

_Here lies the Jedi Knight Juhani, a daughter of Cathar, who overcame the Dark Side and gave her life so that others may live freely and without fear. May you have found the peace within the Force that you had searched for within your life—your friends will miss you dearly._

Dante's countenance revealed surprise as he realized that this was a Jedi who had fought alongside Revan and the others. He thought she had chosen to live her life in exile, but it was clear that she had died for the others during the Battle of the Starforge. Perhaps he would later speak to Jolee about her, recounting tales of their exploits. But for now, he would have to report to the Council.

He ignited the lightsaber in his hand, revealing a sapphire blade and he rose it high above his head, and with marked precision, brought it down into a portion of untouched stone, searing a hole through it, large enough to fit the weapon. He deactivated the blade and looked around as he placed it within the hole and covering over it with leaves. "May others that are worthy of you reach for this blade when the time is right," he said softly, bowing.

He turned around and produced a round disc-shaped object. He tapped a key and sent a message. "I've reached Dantooine and have combed through the Enclave. Unfortunately there is nothing left, save for the corpses of salvagers. The Enclave has become a tomb—nothing has lived there for a while. The remains of Masters Kavar, Zez-kai and Vrook have been buried, and I can find no trace of life around here. I shall be returning to Coruscant shortly, Ravenmoon out." Suddenly he heard what seemed like blaster fire and the sounds of explosions across the vast open fields. He even heard what could be the screams of people dying in the firefight.

He closed the disc and pocketed it as he raced towards the mayhem. He felt his lightsaber fly to his hand, igniting the blue blade as he couldn't help but think, _what was it you said Rena? 'No rest for the wicked?'_ He summoned the Force around him, enhancing his movements as he leapt over the hillside and watched several silver and black clad soldiers shooting crimson fire into the Khoonda installation, as the militia helplessly retaliated.

* * *

**Author's Note: I actually wrote this on November 11th, which was Remembrance Day here in Canada and Veteran's Day in the US, signifying the end of World War I and World War II. I decided the title shouldbe in honour of those who had given their lives for the rest of us;and _hopefully _the mood of the chapter brought out that same feeling, even in the Star Wars Universe. I hope you enjoyed it, there shall be plenty more things to come in _Catharsis_.**


	14. Hot Pursuit

_Hot Pursuit _

He slashed left and right, dropping two Sith soldiers instantly, as he deflected several bolts, sending a few back towards the shooters. Dante blocked three more bolts and sent them flying into a few Sith soldiers as he called upon the Force and with surprising strength, sent a group of Sith flying into the mine emplacements, causing several explosions.

He leaped over a squad of Sith Elites and arced his lightsaber around, slicing through the back of one and spinning his blade around to slash through the chest plate of another Sith.

The third Sith dropped his blaster and brandished a blade, only to find a flying foot smash through his faceplate, sending him back, dazed and unconscious.

Dante looked up and noticed something peculiar: there were only regular infantry and a handful of elite soldiers and grenadiers. There was no support vehicles, soldiers or anything of the sort. He ignored the group of invigorated militia running past him, shooting through several of the Sith as Khoonda defence droids aided the bolstered and motivated militia.

He deflected a few bolts and knew that the battle was over—on the surface. _Where are the Sith fighters?_ He looked up and only saw clear skies, as the plumes of smoke rose into the air. There was nothing else—only a platoon of Sith and mere infantry at that.

Before he would be forced to speak to the Head Minister of the settlement, he left, knowing full well that the Sith had only come for one reason: the Enclave.

Racing towards the Enclave, he found it still standing, yet somehow he knew there was more to the blatant Sith attack. There had to be, after all, a coordinated group of Sith assaulted a small out-of-the-way planet. He looked around and saw nothing around him. Reaching out with the Force, he continued to feel a dark presence above in space—there were Dark Jedi above. Dante also felt something subtle around him. Small, minute traces of ripples fluttering around him, but randomly. His eyes were closed, but he tightened his grip on his lightsaber, feeling something around him.

He opened his eyes widely as he spun about, igniting his lightsaber and slicing horizontally, lopping off the head of a Dark Jedi, as he heard two distinct _snap-hisses_ of lightsabers. He continued his spin, completing a 360-degree turn and blocked two crimson blades that came slashing down towards him.

He faced two black clad women, their eyes gleaming with hunger for his death as they coordinated their assault towards him, forcing Dante to parry each assault and spin about, deflecting and blocking as they swung deftly.

He locked blades with one and with an outstretched palm, sent the other Dark Jedi flying back, as he swung his lightsaber high and low, clashing against the single blade that came at him.

"You're doomed, _Jedi_," she hissed as she arced her blade high over her head and came slashing down.

Dante brought his lightsaber up horizontally and blocked it, as he spun about, bringing himself closer to the woman as he slashed through her chest, killing her. "I beg to differ," he said as he looked upward and saw the other Dark Jedi flying towards him, screaming as her blade came thrusting towards his face.

The Jedi leapt back and deflected the crimson blade, turning it away from him as he spun about, to block another slash. He arced his blade upward, parrying her thrust and he sent her stumbling, as he turned around and shoved her away, while he thrust his lightsaber into her chest, burning her heart.

Before she collapsed, she gurgled slightly and her lightsaber deactivated.

He lowered his weapon and turned around to make sure nothing else would surprise him. After he was certain, Dante deactivated his blade and clipped it to his belt as he ran towards the _Vaapad_, eager to get on board and to send a distress signal to the Republic, as well as investigate the possibility of an invasion fleet.

Climbing aboard, he closed the hatch and strapped himself into the pilot's seat, tapping a few keys and opening a channel to the Republic. "This is Jedi Knight Dante Ravenmoon, I am on Dantooine—there has been an incursion from the Sith. I do not know their numbers—but the militia needs immediate assistance. Ravenmoon out." With that, he gunned the engines, primed the weapon systems and began his ascent out of the planet to assess their numbers—and to look for help if possible. _Not again_, he thought to himself as he remembered Malak's incursion towards the planet during the Jedi Civil War.

As he left the planet, he couldn't believe his eyes. There was only one _Interdictor_-class Sith warship and only a squadron of Sith fighters—that were now heading towards him. _I can only hope you will follow me_, he thought as he guided the _Vaapad_ away from the planet, goading the Sith fighters to follow him as well as the Sith warship.

To his dismay and pleasure, the plan was working. The warship had begun to divert its course towards the gunship, as the squadron began to open fire with crimson energy bolts that flew towards the _Vaapad_, landing glancing blows on the shields.

Barrel-rolling the fighter, Dante tapped several keys into the navigational computer, sending him towards a remote system—the Miralukan colony world of Katarr. He ignored whatever coordinates the computer would send him, as he tapped another key, opening several small compartments under the belly of the _Vaapad_. He smiled as he thought of Mandalorian ingenuity when it came to weaponry.

He tapped the key once more to hear a satisfying hiss as he witness several small ball bearings float towards the fighters, detonating into thousands of smaller ball bearings. He watched as several enemy blips winked out and explosions could be heard behind him, as the ball bearings flew towards the Sith fighters, detonating and destroying them.

Several of the ball bearings flew into the cockpit of one hapless fighter and it shattered, sending the fighter glancing off one of its unfortunate companions and began caroming into the planet. The unfortunate companion spun out of control as a few ball bearings shattered the solar panels of the port wing, leaving the pilot to die in space.

Satisfied that the warship was following him, Dante gunned the hyperdrive engine before the warship could activate its gravity well drives. In a blur, the stars began to streak as the _Vaapad_ shot itself far away from the remote planet.

Soon after, the warship followed pursuit.

* * *

As the _Vaapad_ shot out of space, so did the _Interdictor_.

"Blast, too close," he muttered as he rolled the fighter, rerouting energy towards the engines, giving the _Vaapad_ the speed similar to the animal with which it was named after.

He continued to evade as much of the crimson fire that followed as he evaded the warship, eager to bring himself into the planet.

Suddenly his attention was brought as the ship lurched to and fro, and the deflector switch began to beep, indicating that the hull had been breached.

"Oh Sithspit," he muttered as he noticed the port engine had been hit badly. He cycled through the weapons systems, hoping there was something to stop the relentless vessel. His eyes lit up as he saw something that made him smile. _Seems the Mandalorians are good for something after all_, he thought as he tapped the switch and dumped all of the seismic charges from the ship on a trajectory towards the warship. Of course, the vessel would be too large to evade it—and the weapons systems would be too lax to eliminate all of the charges.

The warship was enveloped by a wave of blue shockwaves, shattering the hull and forcing the mandible shaped vessel to keel over and burst like an overripe fruit. The warship didn't stand a chance as it detonated and was consumed in a massive fireball, sending debris all throughout the system.

The gunship lurched once more and the computer indicated that the _Vaapad_ was finished as several final bursts of crimson energy sheared off the port wing. The gunship had finally outlived its usefulness as its engines began to shatter under the speed with which it began to descent into the planet. Sighing he unbuckled himself and left the seat, tapping an autopilot switch as the gunship began to tear apart under the pressure.

"Goodbye," he said softly as he jumped into the escape hatch and tapped a key, locking the hatch and felt the tug as it left the gunship—along with all of the other escape pods. He targeted it towards the main city—or ruins, rather—as the pod continued to shudder under the speed and pressure. Strapping himself in, he could only close his eyes as he heard a loud explosion, followed by a crash, and his head slammed against the shockwave and he knew only darkness.


	15. Crash Into You

_Crash Into You _

"_Master,"_ _the voice called out to him, scared and lonely. "Master," the voice repeated. _

"_Ungh…" _

"_Master, come on, wake up!"_

"_Ungh…"_

"_Master Ravenmoon, wake up this instant!"_

"_Fine, fine," he replied, hearing the panic and desperation in her little voice. "Just give me a minute."_

"_No, Master," she replied, "you must wake up now. They're coming after me!"_

"_Who is?" _

"_Them!"_

_His eyes snapped wide open_—

--to reveal that he was cushioned by large airbags that prevented his bones from becoming a fine paste.

Dante groaned as he felt for his lightsaber in order to remove the cushioning. No such luck. The cushioning prevented his hands from reaching his lightsaber. His coat even wrapped itself around him, making the task all the more difficult. He looked around and closed his eyes, reaching out with near-like tendrils of the Force, searching for that mechanism that would remove the cushioning.

All he felt was a computer system that was beyond all repair. He groaned and felt his rage growing within him, as he realized that his lungs were slowly becoming constricted with air. He let out a low snarl, as he continued to shove the cushioning away.

He began to feel even more confined as the airbags continued to cover his body.

He tried to control his breathing, calling on his training, to relax and to find that balance point where he could control everything and be far removed from the currents of the world around him.

_Breathe, Dante_, he assured himself. _Steady deep breaths, concentrate on that lush green grove—the trees, the flying lilac blossoms, the scent of her skin, the taste of her lips…release yourself._

Within moments, he was unconscious again.

* * *

"_Dante," a voice called out to him. This time, the voice was older—and different: so much more teasing than he had previously remembered. But he knew he had tried to bury that voice with all the alcohol and taking only the most daring missions fit for a contingent of Jedi. _

_In the end, he knew that he would never escape the guilt—her voice would carry on and entrap him when he had nowhere else to turn to. _

"_Dante," she called out, "wake up, my Love. You need to live, for the galaxy, for Rena, for _me_."_

"_I thought I buried you," he said, surprised at the echo of his own voice—as well as the bitterness—, as it carried beyond the darkness. Not even he could see where he was—or what he was even doing there in the first place. _

"_You've never lost me—I am with you forever. You need to live—I know these past few years have been difficult."_

"_Difficult is hardly what I would call it," he scoffed, feeling a warm, damp sensation coarse down his face. _

"_It was—it _is_ nonetheless, am I not right?"_

"_Rin," he began, "how can I ever hope to go on?"_

"_You've found her—she is a guiding light, taking you back to who you are."_

"_Rena?"_

"_Yes, and soon she will need you—far more than you can possibly imagine."_

_He shuddered under the cryptic tone of that. "What do you mean?"_

"_The crossroads—Dante, she will face death or life. You will be the one who chooses whether she lives or dies. If you live now, you can carry on and give her what she needs to fulfill her destiny."_

"_I won't lose her," he replied adamantly and defiantly. He felt the urge to protect the one who had pulled him from his dark hole, who had become the daughter he never had. "I refuse to lose her," he declared, his voice becoming stronger and powerful. _

"_Then awaken, lest this bubble consumes you." The voice seemed amused, if not teasing. This was hardly the person his darling Rin would have been. But he knew that this sweet melodic voice was not his Rin's, but his inner demon—continuing to urge him to live so he could continue to endure her death. The death he could have prevented had he not stop then and there. _

"_I will rise, and I will become stronger than you," he said, steeling himself for that pain that always came; first in his palms, then his joints, and finally his heart. _

"_Then know that you have the chance to save _her_, the same chance you had to save _me_."_

_He groaned as that pain and realization continued to bore through him—almost as if he had been pierced with the mandibles of the vicious acklay. He would never forgive himself for the loss of Rin, but he knew he would do everything in his power to protect Rena—she was one of the last living pieces of who he was. _

_He closed his eyes as he felt every part of him tense. He replayed her death every moment he closed his eyes, and that pain would forever continue to haunt him. He felt the flow of warmth wrap itself around him as it suddenly became frigid cold, tightening its grip on his heart, his throat and his body. Cringing, he let out a soul-piercing scream as he opened his eyes—_

--to witness the popping of the cushions around him and the shattering of the control systems, as the pod's hatch was torn out of its place, sending a whoosh of cool air his way.

Dante crawled out, and landed on the dusty ground, covering his black clothing in the golden dirt as he lay there, gasping for precious air and retching on the ground. After a few moments, he rose and looked around, witnessing dilapidated homes, and few patches of green lush grass, and palm trees that seemed to sway in the gentle breeze.

He looked high into the sky and squinted his eyes, while one hand reached over his forehead, covering most of the light from his eyes, as they slowly grew used to the bright illumination. "Where am I?"

White puffs of clouds flew softly throughout the blue sky, as he lowered his gaze and looked around. Nothing lived on this planet. He could only feel death—but within that death, there was a beacon of life. Somewhere nearby, there was a person—alive and strong in the Force.

He ran his hands down across his body to check for any scratches or wounds, and was relieved to find none. He checked his forearms for his bracers and was content to see they were still serviceable, along with his lightsaber.

After he salvaged what he could from the pod, he began his way towards where the Force told him this presence was. He found it odd that though the planet was full of death, this vibrant presence seemed to thrive—and it even appeared to guide him towards it. He could even feel the traces of the Dark Side in the presence, but the Light was far stronger.

He continued to make his way through the cropping of buildings, as he noticed behind him the pod became nothing but a speck on the horizon, dwarfed by buildings, but only found with the amount of grey smoke it shot forth into the air.

He looked around as he realized that the Force-beacon was close, but nowhere to be found. Whoever the person was, he or she was definitely not going to reveal themselves anytime soon. He sighed and shook his head at the thought of losing the _Vaapad_—a trustworthy ship to be sure—, only to be stuck on some nameless planet with no means of communication.

_Communication!_ He reached into the folds of his coat and produced a semicircular object. He sighed. The holoprojector was destroyed. _Well, guess I'll find out who is at the other end of that Force-beacon,_ he reasoned.

Just as he made one more step, he was sent flying back and crashed into a wall of a dusty building. Air exploded from his lungs and he felt the Force presence—much stronger than before—come piercing towards him. He ducked just in time to hear the _snap-hiss_ of the lightsaber as it smashed into the wall, where his head had been but a few moments earlier.

He opened his eyes and on instinct, sent the violet-clad figure flying back with a gesture from his outstretched hand. He rose and saw the figure of a woman clad in violet, with a golden embroidered veil. _She's Miraluka_, he thought as he realized her double-edged lightsaber was crimson. _Could be a Dark Side apprentice_, he reasoned, as he brandished his sapphire lightsaber.

The blue blade thrummed to life, only to flicker once, then twice and die out. He let out a weak groan, "just when I need it the most."

The Miraluka began to rise and Dante knew he was running out of options.

He quickly holstered his blade and brandished another hilt—this one was bronze and had a bulbous base. He smiled as he ignited the blade, revealing a silvery-green shaft of energy. It was the lightsaber of his former Master, Alec Ness.

She rose and thrust out with one end of her blade, only to be met with the viridian blade. Acting on instinct and training, she spun about, bringing the other end of the blade to cut through the man's neck.

Dante angled his blade over his body to deflect the slash, as he gathered the Force around himself to kick out at her, sending her back.

She leapt back and landed on her feet as she brought her blades to slash at the man before her, slashing at both of his shoulders, then his legs, only to be met with the same viridian blade.

He had to admire her skill—she was very calm while they both continued the dance, as she struck and he deflected.

She spun her blade in a clockwise fashion as she bore it down onto him.

He continued to block and he strafed back as her blade cut into the ground where he once stood. Seizing the moment before him, Dante thrust out with his lightsaber, only to let it be guided around with her crimson saber. _You're mine_, he thought as he sliced the lightsaber in half, destroying the power cell, causing both ends to flicker out.

If this caused her to seem defenceless, then he was sorely mistaken. She dropped both ends of her lightsaber as she angled her body and kicked out at him, her foot slamming against his chest.

_She just doesn't quit!_ He deactivated the blade and landed on his feet, crouched slightly. He rose as she flew high into the air towards him. He rotated away from her extended foot and he slammed the butt of his lightsaber into her face, sending her veil flying away.

She grunted as she landed on the ground. She tried to rise, only to stop as a _snap-hiss_ of a lightsaber convinced her otherwise. She could feel the energy of the viridian blade inches from her throat.

"Who are you?" He asked, reaching out with the Force as the veil came into his extended hand, while the other pointed the blade expertly towards her throat.

"I sense the Dark Side within you," she said.

"As I sense it within you," he replied.

"But you're no Dark Jedi," they both said at the same time.

He deactivated his blade and clipped the weapon to his belt as he helped her up, handing her the veil. He paid no mind to her eyeless sockets, as he knew that was the case with the Miraluka. He remembered his former friend, Lon Vorik, who had given up his life on board the _Inferno_ during the Jedi Civil War. Lon was Miraluka, and he had been responsible for the destruction of the Sith warship, when they had searched for the holocron that led them to the path of the Unifying Force.

She adjusted it to her liking and then she turned back to face the Jedi, only to ask, "who are you?"

"I'm Dante Ravenmoon, a Jedi Knight." He introduced. After a moment, he asked, "who are you?"

After a moment, she bowed. "My apologies, I am Visas Marr."

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks to a helpful hint--someone corrected a mistake and this has been updated. I had this written a while back, and it's been some time since I've played KOTOR II. That's something I'm going to rectify in a little while. **


	16. Connections

**Author's Notes: Thanks for the support I've been recieving, especially where I thought I was losing touch in the characters. I've somewhat rectified that, but we shall see how it goes for the next few chapters. I'm actually a lot further in the story than what I am posting. The other chapters are mainly avenues I might consider taking. Anyway, here is something that is sweet and short. More importantly, it contains a person we've been waiting a long time to see...**_

* * *

_

_Connections _

"_Not bloody likely, " his voice replied. _

_The question hadn't been heard, but there was no doubt that this man had been bred for these dark times. His oceanic blue eyes seemed to be brighter than most, and his black wavy hair flew out in the wind. His hair had once been short, but now it had grown and pulled back into a short ponytail, while the rest of his hair split into a widow's peak. He had even grown a goatee. Though he once had seemed clean, his face was covered in some dirt, revealing that he had been at this for a long time._

_He looked around and turned to a figure, another man. "Have we heard any word from her?"_

"_No, sir," the calm voice replied. _

"_Damn," he muttered. "Theresa, where the blazes are you?"_

"_Sir," the same voice said, "we have a feed. The team has done it."_

"_Good, tell them to get out of there. Inform the strike team to bomb that foundry. And tell Commander Falcus that I want to speak to her."_

"_Yes sir."_

"_Damnable droids," he muttered. This foundry had been the fourth in the past 3 months that had been assaulted. The bloody foundries seemed to be popping out from everywhere—first Ord Cestus, then Saleucami and now Bakura. _

_Suddenly, an explosion was heard far away from them, as the dark sky was lit up in a colour of gold and amber, as cheering could be heard from somewhere. _

"_We've got thousands more where that came from, people," the man yelled, instilling pride and power into the few followers he had. "This will be a day long remembered—we will eliminate the Sith from trying to take over the Galaxy!"_

_Cheers could be heard, as one discernible name came out from the chant. Revan._

* * *

Rena rose from her bed, panting and cold sweat as she looked around. She realized that she was still in her quarters in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. After a few more moments, she shoved aside the comforter and rose, clad only in black undergarments. The moon from the night sky shone through her room, revealing the sweat that glistened on her body. Her raven black hair was ruffled, but still retained the shine it always did.

She paced through her quarters, breathing steadily and slowly as she felt the tremors from her body. She had felt _him_! Of all the things, she had a vision about Revan, the legendary figure who nearly wiped out the Jedi Order—and led the Republic to ruin. But that only occurred after the legendary figure led the Republic to victory. That had been almost 15 years ago.

Something didn't feel right however; as she realized that she seemed to have an odd connection to the man. This hadn't been the first time she had a vision about the former Dark Lord. She had been dreaming of him for a long time—especially when she was younger.

What's more, Revan had been leading a few men and women in a campaign against the _Sith_. War was definitely brewing, and somewhere Revan was in trouble. Whatever faults he had committed in the past, he was still a Jedi—fighting for the survival of the Galaxy.

Her Master, the man she had come to love dearly, had promised Revan's wife, Bastila, that he would find Revan and bring him back. Her loyalty to him was as powerful as his loyalty to his friends—even if that included Revan.

Her Master had been missing for over three days. She paced as her thoughts turned towards him. Dante had sent a transmission from Dantooine—and had gone missing after that. Her heart ached as she thought of the possibility of him lying on some forsaken world, dying and calling out for her. She closed her eyes and sat at the edge of her bed, reaching out with the Force to feel him.

She had hid her feelings for him for a very long time, but she knew that sooner or later, she would slip up and he would find out. She could only hope that he would reciprocate—but he had already lost the love of his life before Rena had ever come into the picture. And she knew that no matter what, his heart may forever be destined towards his lost love.

She calmed herself and then she positioned herself in the center of her bed, entering a trance, almost as if to open herself up to the Force, to use the connection she felt with her Master—to the man she so desperately loved.

He had saved her, and she would forever be grateful. They had come into each other's lives during the darkest moments, and together, they had saved one another.

She pictured him smiling, almost content, as if he were safe and at peace. But she also felt the pain and wound in the very center of his being—a wound that would never completely heal for the rest of his life.

Holding on to the sight of Dante, she felt the tendrils of Light reach out and pierce into the Galaxy itself, as she felt a world, barren of life, save for two, come into being. It seemed lush, and beautiful, but contained nothing but death and the haunting memories of whatever devastated the seeming paradise. "Dante," she whispered as she felt herself collapse as the strain of death overwhelmed her.

As the image of the smiling brown skinned man began to slowly fade in her mind, her consciousness did likewise. She could only hope that Dante would heed her call, for Rena felt herself slipping away, further into a darkness that was feasting on the life of the Galaxy.


	17. Dark Clouds Gather

_Dark Clouds Gather _

He walked out on the bridge of the _Leviathan_, looking for her. He needed to report to her and he knew that today one of two things would happen: his Apprentice would become the Master or he would still retain his role as the Master. Darth Cain—_Dietrich _Cain—could only hope that he would still retain his life.

The 70-year old man had definitely retained his vigour and skill with a blade, but he knew that soon enough, he would be killed and Sebastian Marseilles would become the Master. He needed to show that woman how capable he was—Cain had no intention of dying before he and his apprentice would ascend to leader of the Sith Remnant. Then together, they could crush the Jedi and take over the Galaxy—as is the way of the Sith.

He strode through the auxiliary bridge, passing through the officers, only to come to halt as he stopped on the small observation deck. The lights were dimmed to battle readiness, as always. He looked around and saw the Captain of the vessel, talking to several subordinate officers. Taking in a deep breath, the charismatic older man walked up to the Captain and said, "where is Mistress Traya?"

The Captain, a short, stocky figure replied gruffly, "the Mistress is in the former bridge—the _Throne_ room."

"Ah," he said, turning and leaving, feeling exceptionally irate and embarrassed. He could imagine several of the officers laughing at him. In fact he could _feel_ it. But he wouldn't harm any of the Dark Mistress' servants—that could incur severe punishment.

As he entered the turbolift, he sighed as it moved upward—towards the throne room. _I will have to come straight to the point, no distracting banters. I can only hope she will let me live,_ he thought as the door hissed open. He rather preferred to stay aboard his flagship, paying attention to the masks of the fallen Sith Lords that filled his personal quarters. They included the masks of Darths Nihilus, Revan and even the jaw-mask of Darth Malak. He had acquired the last one from the hands of a bounty hunter, whose expression was priceless before being launched out of the airlock. Before he could allow himself to be lost in the thought of the masks, he walked through the doorway.

The dark silhouette of a figure could be seen near the viewport. "What news do you bring, Lord Cain?" She asked coldly.

"Mistress," he began, walking towards her, kneeling as he continued, "I have failed you. My cruiser engaged Dantooine—but was halted by a _Jedi_." The mere mention of the Order seemed to linger in his mouth with some distaste.

"So the cruiser was destroyed, I take it?"

"Y-yes, Mistress," he said softly.

"Well, it was the fault of the fool in charge. Rise, Lord Cain, I would suggest that you find more _suitable_ commanders for your vessels—or _I_ will."

He gulped and rose, now towering over her. "Yes, Mistress."

"You may leave," she said.

Soon, she heard footsteps walking away and the hiss of the turbolift's doors. _The fool has left_, she thought brazenly.

"Do you really think that he deserved to live?" Came another voice.

"Rest easy, Xa," Atris replied. "He will serve his uses—and the time is coming ever so closer."

"Ah yes, the _grand_ removal of the Jedi Order and the Republic in one swoop," Lotus said mockingly, as she appeared out of the shadows, including Horn, Torn and Deus. "Do you really think it will work that quickly?"

"The time doesn't matter," the white haired woman answered. "All that matters is the removal of the Jedi, the Republic and the continuation of war."

"Or the complete dissolution of the Republic," Lotus added. "After all," she shrugged, running one hand over the statuesque Deus' chest, "the elimination of the Republic will only encourage our _allies_ to allow their greed to consume them."

"I find it very interesting that you seem to know all the details to my plans."

"I _was_ a follower of your predecessor after all," she replied nonchalantly. Lotus' footsteps echoed throughout the room.

"Was she like this?"

"Traya? No. She enjoyed the occasional witty banter—and the occasional execution of an ignorant fool. The way of the Sith is far much more than the baser emotions, my friend."

"So I've been told," Atris quipped.

"Regardless of what you intend to do, _Traya_, I only have eyes for one Jedi. You can kill everyone else."

Atris turned around and smiled, for the first time in a long time. "Ah, forbidden love?"

Lotus continued to caress the armour of the self-imposed bodyguard of Traya. "Let's just say that this one has left a mark in me that I will never forget."

"So, someone bested you."

Lotus stopped and glared at the amused figure. "As I recall, so were _you_."

"Perhaps," Atris said, shrugging it off, "but they had made a fatal mistake."

"Oh?"

"The fools allowed you and I to live. Now they will pay with their arrogance and foolishness."

"Perhaps you can tell me more, but for now," Lotus yawned, "I am going to go get some rest. Good night, Traya."

Atris turned around to face the stars, to resume her ceaseless scheming. Horn and Torn dissipated into the shadows, but Deus waited for her patiently, almost as if he were an obedient pup.

After another moment, Atris turned around and finally spoke up. "Deus, have you ever been to the Galactic Center?"

The figure shook his head.

"It's a shame," she sighed. "You would really love it there."

Deus only nodded.

Suddenly, a thought came to mind and Atris cocked her head to one side. "How would you like to go to Coruscant?"

Deus nodded.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Atris smiled. "Well then," she said, "let's take up Lotus' idea. We'll hasten the deed—the Republic knows we're here. Go to the Senate—while they're in the middle of a meeting—and give them a meeting they would never forget."

The figure bowed and left.

"Oh, Deus," she called out, causing the figure to turn around, "take a group of Dark Jedi with you. It will be a marvelous event. And if the Jedi try to interfere, kill them."

Deus bowed and continued towards the turbolift.

_Things will move much sooner—and there is no need for the Corellian installation anymore,_ she thought. _General Scrimshaw will prove most valuable as well—the Republic will be torn asunder. And not even the might of the new Jedi Order will be able to stop it!_

* * *

"So she rescued you from the Dark Side?" Dante sounded in awe as Visas recounted her tale with the Exile, Theresa Falcus. He had been clad in other clothing that he had guiltily looked for throughout the city. He wore a deep crimson tunic and black breeches, along with his worn black boots. His lightsaber and other clothing were up in the room he was resting in. He had been on the planet for a number of days and he had found it very interesting, as he listened to Visas' stories about her past.

"No, I said that she showed me that there was more to life and honouring the dead than by taking vengeance for the sake of vengeance." For some reason, Visas had found herself at remarkable ease with the Jedi Knight before her. They were inside a humble home, near the fireplace in the living room, as they both sat comfortably on a sofa, drinking sweet nectar.

"So how exactly did you defeat Nihilus?"

"Theresa guided me through the ways of the Force and together we overcame his power—which was beyond anything I could ever imagine."

"I would like to meet her—if I am ever to leave this planet that is," he smiled.

"I have a transport," she said, finding herself smiling and silently berating herself for speaking too quickly. "I mean, if you would like, I have a transport that can take you off Katarr."

"I would like that very much," he said, "thank you."

She felt the effects of the nectar wearing down on her—even for a Jedi, she had consumed quite a bit. "You're welcome to rest here and tomorrow you can leave," she said after a moment.

"Won't you come with me?" His expression seemed surprised.

"I intend to stay here, and listen to what the Force is saying," she answered softly and almost monotonously.

"It would appear as if you have been saying that to yourself for quite some time," Dante reasoned. "Is that what you truly want?"

She bit her lower lip and looked askance. "It's what the Force wants."

Dante's gaze looked towards the fire, gazing at the burning embers of the wood. "It seems to me that the Force wants something else. It isn't by random chance that I came here—the Force willed it."

"Perhaps," she drawled.

"And perhaps it also means that it is time for you to leave Katarr," he said gently. "I am not trying to recruit you into the Order, if that is what you think."

"No," she said, looking at him, her gold embroidered veil hiding her eyeless sockets. "I know that, it is just—I—I just don't know yet."

After a moment, Dante spoke softly. "If you feel you are not ready to rejoin the Galaxy at this time, then I understand. I feel that the Force has brought me here to you for a reason, Visas, and what the Force wants of you, is something you need to ask yourself." He rose. "I think we should get some sleep," he said, smiling as he lowered his hand for her to take.

She accepted and rose with his help.

"I will leave sometime tomorrow—thank you once more, Visas. If you choose to come with me, then we will leave Katarr together." He produced a small object—a short-wave comlink he had found in his search for new clothing. "If not, then take this," he handed it to her, "and when you're ready to join us, give me a call."

She smiled. "Thank you, Master Dante."

"Please," he said, "I've told you many times, call me Dante."

"Very well," she said, "thank you, Dante."

That night, Dante lay in bed as he couldn't help but wonder what the Force wanted of him. He had found himself thinking about Rena, hoping that she was well, but he also found himself thinking about Visas. He had come to her for a reason, he was sure of it. Visas had spent a long time on her homeworld, and perhaps now it was time for her to accept the lessons she had learned on Katarr and move on.

But he also felt something disturbing, something darker. Somewhere, a powerful body was moving throughout the Galaxy, closing in on the Galactic Center. He began to worry greatly about Rena, hoping that she would be safe. Come tomorrow, Dante would leave Katarr, with or without Visas. The Galaxy needed him, and though he felt a kindred connection to Visas, he knew that their destinies would take them elsewhere if the Force willed her not to join him come tomorrow.

For now, though, he would choose sleep and hope that he would come ever closer to joining his apprentice. That vision he had only caused him to hope she was all right. _If anything should ever happen to her_, he thought, as he clenched his fist. _No, I won't lose her—she is destined for great things, and I would rather die than allow anything to happen to her._


	18. Eager Demonstration

_Eager Demonstration _

He had walked towards where the vessel lay, and he couldn't help but smile. It was a large freighter, shaped almost as if it were a whale. It's two wings—or fins—carried quadruple engines at the tips, where the turbines were pointing down towards the ground. Somehow, the Jedi could imagine his old friend Sekula making a wisecrack at the vessel's expense.

He sighed as he realized he would be traveling back to Coruscant without the aid of the Miraluka. He appreciated her company, but he also knew she followed the call of the Force. He would have expected no less, and for that, he was especially grateful she allowed him the use of the vessel.

As the cargo hatch at the rear opened, he walked on board, clad in his usual black attire. He walked up it, only to feel an increasing presence of the Force—the presence of only one other person on the planet. He turned around to see Visas racing towards him. He rushed out of the vessel in time to watch her make it to the rear, gasping for breath.

"Visas!" He called out.

"I'm…coming…with…you," she mustered, in between breaths.

He could only chuckle. "Well, come on board."

An hour later, the old vessel took off, its engines whining and arcing around by 90-degrees as it gave a large boost and left Katarr.

* * *

The vessel landed in Coruscant, near the Galactic Senate chambers. Without so much as attracting attention, the procession of 13 figures left the vessel and made their way towards the Senate building. The declining daylight did nothing to dampen their resolve—they had a mission to carry out. Soon it would be evening, and soon, the Republic would find itself torn to pieces, as thousands of systems would begin to secede from the withering Republic.

Deus led the procession as they entered the building, only to come across two guards.

"Sir, do you have identification?" One of them said. Both were human, light skinned and bald.

Deus replied with a growl and both guards began to gasp for air, bringing their hands to their throats as their eyes bulged and they gurgled one more time. The procession of Dark Jedi continued, killing anyone that got in their way.

Several guards began to race towards them, only to find themselves crushed or find their throats constricting.

As they entered the doorway, they heard the voice of Chancellor Dodonna.

"The Republic will continue on stronger than ever! The Jedi have begun to rally support and will once more resume their mandate to serve and protect the public!"

A loud cheer of applause resounded throughout the large dome-like structure.

Deus glanced at his companions, and nodded.

Suddenly, in the Senate, the _snap-hisses_ of crimson lightsabers could be heard along with the screams of people being cut down and maimed.

Several of the Senatorial 'chairs' were sent flying into other levitating discs, as senators and other members were sent flying away, many of them falling to their deaths.

Deus walked into the center of the chamber and leapt high into the air, rising onto the center disc; the one that carried Chancellor Dodonna.

She gasped as the tall daunting figure stood before her, clad in black robes and wearing goggles of a sort.

With a casual gesture, Dodonna's aides were sent flying away from her—flying to their deaths. Amid the ensuing chaos, a sensation of unerring calm rang out.

The Jedi had come.

Deus ignited his crimson blade and stood before the Chancellor, holding her close to him as he gazed out at the handful of Jedi—seven of them—engage against the procession of Dark Jedi.

Two of the Jedi, both human males, one old, the other one relatively young, fought side by side as their emerald lightsabers parried the crimson ones of their enemies.

Somehow, Deus instinctively recognized them—Ash Merrick and Tarn Seethes. He let out a low growl as he felt their strength in the Force. Before he could leap out to fight them, he noticed the others.

A wookiee and a dark coloured old human male fought side by side as well—he recognized the man as Jolee Bindo. Somehow he felt the old man pause and look at him. They stared at each other for a moment before the old man ran his emerald blade through the chest of a Dark Jedi.

He tightened his grip around the back of the woman Chancellor's neck, keeping her paralyzed as he looked around at the other figures. He saw Len Vizta, fighting wildly, tearing through two Dark Jedi and forcing a third back on his heels. Sneed Ze continued to fight behind the Nautolan, covering his wilder comrade as they pushed their way towards Dodonna.

And further away, one specific Jedi blocked a crimson strike and spun about, slicing through one Dark Jedi as he made his way towards him. Cyrin Jace was on the move—he and that purple lightsaber of his.

Deus continued to look around and couldn't help but smile at the ensuing chaos around him. Like the other Dark Jedi, he wore a facial mask, but he wore no hood, allowing his wavy and unruly raven hair to run about the bottom of his neck. With careful precision, he angled his lightsaber away, deflecting several crimson blaster bolts into the crowd, from the Republic soldiers who entered and were trying to pick him off. He spoke into the comlink in his wrist. "Converge on the Jedi and rendezvous at the coordinates."

He took pride in watching the others follow his order, as the remaining 8 engaged the 6 Jedi—Cyrin Jace was coming for Deus.

The dark coloured, brown-robed Jedi Master leapt from one disc to another, reaching ever so closer to her. He wouldn't let any harm come to her—he would see to it that these Dark Jedi would come to an end, before that would happen.

He leapt to the center and stood tall and proud, his violet blade gleaming and pointing towards the lead Dark Jedi—who seemed far more powerful than the others. "Get away from her," he said calmly.

"I've been looking forward to this," Deus said, his dark voice being projected through a vocoder. He had lost the ability to speak with his actual vocal cords a long time ago.

Without so much as a second warning, Cyrin kicked out, knocking Deus in the face and sending him flying down. He looked at Dodonna and brought one hand to caress her. "Forn, are you okay?"

She nodded to him, gasping. "I'm fine—I'm just a bit shaken up."

"It will be all right, Forn—no one is going to hurt you," he said, his resolve firm.

"Get him Cyrin. While you still can," she gasped. "I'll be fine."

With that, he leapt down, eager to confront the Dark Jedi that tried to harm the Chancellor of Republic—but not just that, the woman that had turned the darkest times of his life, to the best.

"Be careful," she whispered as she saw him leap into the fray. Republic officials in discs caught up to her, pulling her away from combat as senators continued to leave the building frantically.

Cyrin landed, as he saw Deus waiting for him, poised to strike.

"Now we get to see who is the better swordsman," Deus said.

Cyrin felt a familiarity about the figure, but he couldn't quite place it. It was similar to Rena—but the hard-as-nails Jedi Master would have to put it aside until after the event.

Deus thrust out with his crimson blade, only to crash into the violet blade of the dark coloured Master.

Both figures were Masters in their art: Form V, an aggressive fighting style that seemed to fit both men perfectly.

Raising his blade over his head, Cyrin brought it down on Deus, only to find it crashing against the crimson blade. In an instant, the violet blade came down, then across the face of the Dark Jedi, only to be blocked.

Both Jedi were evenly matched as they continued a flurry of strikes and parries, eagerly blocking and striking to kill.

Meanwhile, Ash and Tarn brought their blades to bear on the last of the Dark Jedi as they noticed the commotion on the floor of the Senate. Needless to say, Ash was slightly worried about Tarn, but he kept him close, ensuring he could keep his former Apprentice safe. Old habits had a tendency to die-hard.

"Cyrin," Ash whispered.

"We need to aid him," Tarn said.

"Not yet," the older Master pointed towards Len and Sneed, who were now aiding Frreral and Jolee. "They need our help."

"Right," Tarn said as they both leapt through the discs and made their way to bolster the Jedi Masters who were severely outnumbered.

Jolee blocked two thrusts from two Dark Jedi, as Frreral deflected a strike and impaled one of the assassins.

The wookiee spun about to aid Jolee when he felt a searing pain drive through his shoulder. Groaning, Frreral turned back and slammed a fist into the face of a Dark Jedi, who was skewered with the emerald blades of Tarn and Ash.

Cyrin parried a thrust from Deus, as he spun about and locked his hand and blade with the Dark Jedi's.

Both figures grunted and formed feral expressions as they continued to wrestle with one another.

Seizing an opportunity, Deus angled his lightsaber down and jumped, hitting the Master in the face with his head.

Cyrin fell back and was thrown on the defensive as Deus slashed high and low, trying to find a break in the Master's seemingly flawless defence.

As soon as Ash had beheaded the last Dark Jedi, he looked at his companions and looked at Cyrin. Without saying a word, he gathered the Force into him and leapt towards the two fighting figures.

Deus continued to push the Jedi back, only to find his blade deflected and shoved away, as his face was connected with the heel of Cyrin's right foot. Now it was his turn to be shoved on the defensive.

Cyrin arced his lightsaber towards the Dark Jedi's shoulder, only to find the crimson blade there.

As both swordsmen continued their evenly matched fight, Ash came down and thrust out behind the Dark Jedi.

Deus spun about and blocked the thrust, angling it away from him, as he continued his spin and deflected Cyrin's thrust.

Cyrin had fought beside Ash and both had known each other for a long time. Their assault on the Dark Jedi was coordinated and efficient as they made thrusts and parries and slashes at Deus, forcing him back.

Knowing that this fight would end in a stalemate, Deus brought his lightsaber around, to take both lightsabers onto his single blade and with the Force, he pulled a senatorial disc towards them, forcing both Jedi to leave the fight and prevent the disc from smashing into them. Seizing the moment, Deus leapt high into the air, towards a platform and sent two Republic soldiers falling to their deaths as he raced through a hallway and smashed through the window, flying out towards freedom.

Forced to abandon the fight, both Masters turned about and extended their free hands and stopped the spinning disc in mid-air, causing it to land as they extinguished their blades. They sighed and looked at one another before they gazed at the wreckage and carnage wrought in the Senate.

"So much for the golden era of peace," Ash said softly, gasping for some breath.

"Are the others all right?"

"Frreral was injured in the fight—he'll need medical attention—but other than that, everyone else is all right."

"The Sith are continuing their assault—this will only lead to a new war." Cyrin looked at his companion with something akin to sadness.

"We'll have to promote Rena to a Knight."

"For now, that Dark Jedi will escape."

"I don't think this was a planned assault—it was more of a demonstration."

"Of their power?"

"The Sith outnumber us far more than ever," Ash said, "we've seen that today. The Jedi Order is going to be hard-pressed."

"I think Director Tamar has something to do with this—and I sense a plot to destroy the Republic."

"I agree, old friend," Ash said, clipping his lightsaber to his belt. "For now, we must attend to our wounds—and hope that Dante is still alive. I fear we will need all of the Jedi Remnant—and that will barely be enough."

As both Jedi began to leave, Ash pulled Cyrin back.

"Do you think their intention was to kill the Chancellor?"

Cyrin looked away, clenching his jaw and after a few moments he faced his old friend. "No. It seems too likely. Besides, that Dark Jedi appeared intent on getting us to show ourselves. I sense another reason behind their appearance."

"Nevertheless, perhaps you can talk to Forn and ensure that her safety becomes a priority."

The dark skinned Jedi nodded.

"And Cyrin," Ash said, in a much lower tone, "regardless of the past between the both of you, there is something much larger at stake."

"I know—and the past is the past."

"But don't let it become too much in the past."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying, sometimes things happen for a reason. I know how much she means to you, Cyrin."

"Ash," he began, "we're Jedi. The Code forbids attachments."

The silver haired Jedi took a deep breath. "The Code brought us to war," he reminded his friend before he left. He paused for a moment and then turned back to face Cyrin. "She may also know more than she's telling us, Cyrin. Keep that in mind."

Cyrin looked away and then he clipped his lightsaber to his belt as he proceeded to join his companions. "Easy for you to say," he muttered, knowing full well the secret his best friend kept.


	19. Reunion

_Reunion _

They had landed on the pad at Kuat and had paid the landing fee, as they entered the city, eager to stretch their legs.

"It is so vibrant, full of life," Visas whispered as she took in the spectacle of the shimmering of life within the Force.

"Yes," Dante said, "this is one of the few wealthy systems in the Republic. They also seem to be building several Republic cruisers as well."

"Is the Republic going to war?"

"Not with anyone I know—but I have lost contact with the Council," he said. He looked around and then said, "I do feel some apprehensive feelings from the populace."

"Perhaps we will have some of our questions answered soon enough," she replied somewhat cheerfully. She felt odd about this new sensation, however, it seemed that she might have carried it within her always, perhaps it had just awoken.

Both of the Jedi walked through the crowd of humanoids, eager to make their way to a cantina and find the latest in the happenings of the Galaxy. Something didn't feel right and both Jedi knew it just as much as they felt it.

Dante had kept both of his lightsabers hidden within the confines of his coat, while Visas just chose not to carry the lightsaber she had begun to rebuild.

She seemed confident in his abilities, though he essentially defended his way to victory. She would have to ask him later what his fighting form was.

Both Jedi entered the filled room, as they walked towards a booth, only for Visas to pause and turn towards another booth.

"Visas?" Dante asked.

"I feel…someone. Someone _familiar_."

"Who?"

"A brash and arrogant man." She turned to face Dante, "follow me, I'll introduce you to him. He's someone who might be able to help us." She began to walk towards a booth, as she muttered to herself, "that is, if he is stable right now."

The figure that sat by himself, looked deep into the tumbler before him. In it contained the amber liquid of Tarisian ale.

_Gone_, he thought, as he picked it up, downing it, and sighing as the warm liquid coursed down his throat. _As always, isn't it? It was different with her,_ he thought. He ran his hand through his black wavy hair, as he looked around. _Atton Rand_, he thought, _you just seem to make the ladies run._ He sighed as he waved for another drink.

"I'll buy a round for you," came a voice that caused the man to turn around and refocus his sight.

He saw a figure clad in black in front of him, and beside him, Atton saw a familiar sight. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me," he slurred.

"Hello Atton, so this is what you've been reduced to," Visas stated. She sat down, and Dante sat beside her. Both Jedi were in front of the drunk man.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend?"

"Actually I'm--,"

"I don't care," Atton said, cutting off the man that sat before him. "Look, are you going to buy me that drink or what?"

"It seems that Theresa's lone journey has made you the worse for wear. Very unbecoming, Atton."

"Look, what do you want?"

"Something--,"

"Are you going to order that drink, Loverboy?"

Dante sighed and waved a waitress over, ordering their drinks. _I sense debauchery and loneliness from this one_, he thought. _I better be careful—he's surprisingly strong in the Force. More so than I._

After a few more moments of silence, she arrived with their drinks and Atton lifted his tumbler in a toast.

"I'd like to make a toast," he said, taking a deep breath. "To the Galaxy: for it is without a sense of irony that the woman I love is gone and that the blind one here is the company I get stuck with."

Dante couldn't help but shake his head. "I'll get straight to the point: my name is Dante Ravenmoon, I am a Jedi Knight. Visas says that you're worth the effort to talk to—if you're like this, then you're wasting our time."

"Whoa, whoa there," Atton began, "you're a _Jedi_? I have a bone to pick with you. I thought you all were killed or something?"

"Well not all of us were killed," Dante said. "And could you say that just a _little_ louder? I don't think the Tusken Raiders in Tatooine heard that."

"Atton," Visas said, catching his attention, "the Jedi Order needs our help."

"Needs our help? Where were they when we had to fight 'he-who-sleeps-with-vibroblades?' And where were they for Telos? Where were they when Mira died? I say good riddance to the Order, good for nothings."

"Is this what you've truly been reduced to? Attempting to belittle others because of a pain you feel? She left for good reasons, Atton. She had to leave—you're one of the reasons. Do you think this is how she wanted you to act?"

"She just couldn't handle a real man."

Visas' expression maintained stoic. "Atton, if this is being a real man, then she should have left a long time ago."

His expression became hostile. "What do you _want_?"

"We want you to come with us—Theresa would have wanted it that way."

"Oh, so you think you know her?"

"Do you think she would have wanted to you be like this?" She shot back.

Atton could only sigh. "What, do you want me to rebuild the Order?"

"The Order is slowly building up—but there is still the matter of Atris."

"Atris?"

Now it was Dante's turn to speak. "She's alive—and she's out there, somewhere."

"How do you know about Atris—oh, right." He looked at Visas and then back at him.

Dante sighed. "Look, I will make this clear to you. You help us with the Jedi Order—even hone your training—and you can accompany me to find _her_ and Revan."

This caught his interest, and within moments he sobered up. "You are going to go look for them?"

"Yes—I made a promise to an old friend."

"So how do you expect for find Revan and Theresa? Last I checked, she took the _Ebon Hawk_, and to top that off, the only other droid—that HK-47—was destroyed. That lousy astromech went with her."

"I have my ways," Dante said, keeping his expression similar to Visas.

"You don't know, huh?" Atton laughed as he shook his head. "Typical Jedi," he muttered. "You're actually different from most Jedi—you're normal. I guess that makes you easier to talk to, I guess. Less cryptic."

"Perhaps. We have a ship, and I think it is time we left," Dante said, as his eyes shifted to a news report on the Holonet.

"_Today in the Senate's meeting, a group of Sith led an attack that killed 72 Senators and injured hundreds more. Chancellor Dodonna is expected to give a state of address conference in two hours declaring how the Republic will deal with this threat. The Jedi Civil War ended almost 7 years ago, resulting in the dissolution of the Jedi Order. However, during the attack, several Jedi fought and stopped the attacks. The rebirth of the Jedi Order could mean that another war will be on the horizon, however nothing is sure at this moment. The general populace has had mixed feelings over the Jedi making their appearance in today's horrifying encounter. Director Tamar Gran'gerst made a statement earlier today, after the attacks, saying that they were unprovoked and that the Republic military will respond in kind. It is unknown where the Sith are located, but Director Gran'gerst has made no mention of their whereabouts._"

Dante looked at Atton and Visas. "Enough talk, we need to go _now_." He noticed several figures looking at them as they rose. He tossed the bartender a coin as they began to walk towards the entrance.

Only to be blocked by five figures, all of whom were non-human.

"Going somewhere, _Jedi_?" One of the figures, a weequay, asked.

"Now what makes you think we're Jedi?" Dante asked, looking at Atton.

"Something about your companion screaming your name out."

_Ah, to be intoxicated_, Dante thought miserably. "Well, don't worry, we're not Jedi and we don't want any trouble," he said with a casual wave of his hand.

"You're not Jedi and you don't want any trouble," the weequay said monotonously, causing his companions to look at him with puzzling expressions.

"They're Jedi, you poodoo!" One of the figures, an orange-skinned nikto, screamed.

_Sith,_ Dante thought, _these ones are clever. _

"Uhh, look guys," Atton began, bringing his hands up to his chest, between his rustic colour ribbed jacket, "we don't want any trouble."

"Too late, _Jedi_," the nikto began.

In a blur, Dante brandished a fully recharged sapphire blade, as he felt Alec Ness' lightsaber fly into the hand of Visas, who ignited a viridian blade, while Atton revealed two sapphire lightsabers from his jacket.

As the group of non-humans brandished blasters, Dante spun his blade counter-clockwise, searing through the hands of the nikto, while Atton flicked his wrists and severed the wrists of the weequay.

Visas slashed through the arms of the aqualish in front of her, as she thrust out at an angle taking a green-skinned rodian in the chest.

Dante and Atton brought their blades and severed the final nikto's hands and blaster that he brandished.

When they were done, they extinguished their blades and Dante tossed another coin towards the bartender. "Sorry for the mess."

Before anything else could happen, the trio made their way to the freighter. As the trio reached the landing pad, in the seemingly clean and austere pad, Atton paused and glanced at the two Jedi.

"You two came in on _that thing_?"

"Look, you can complain about it when we're on it—for now, let's get moving," Dante exclaimed.

As they boarded the freighter and closed the ramps, Dante climbed into the pilot's chair and cold-started the ship, gunning the engines as the vessel took off.

Atton climbed in the co-pilot's chair and looked to the man and said, "you know how to fly one of these?"

Dante shot him a look. "Are you kidding? I used to fly a Mandalorian gunship."

"Oh." After a moment Atton had to ask. "What happened?"

"I crashed."

Moments later, Dante heard Atton strapping himself in, as they made their way to lightspeed.

After a few more moments of locking the autopilot, Dante and Atton made their way into the main hold, where Visas was sitting.

"Well," Dante said, "the good news is that no one is following us."

"And the bad news?" Atton asked.

"I have to speak to the Council." He turned to Visas. "Do you have a long-range communications system?"

"Yes," she said, as she made her way to the central table and tapped a few keys. "You can make your transmission."

"Thank you." After a few more moments, of inputting a scrambled transmission and sending it through several transmission stations in the Holonet, he gained a clear feed, to reveal the Council room.

"_Dante?_" The figure of Ash Merrick sat there, along with Cyrin Jace.

"Yes, Master Merrick, it's me. I don't have much time, I am on route to Coruscant—what happened?"

"_There was an attack on the Senate_," Cyrin stated. "_Many Senators were killed._"

"_We have reason to believe that Director Gran'gerst is partly responsible for this,_" Ash said.

"The Director? Why?"

"_He has not been so forthcoming with some of the things we have witnessed as of late_," Len Vizta answered.

"How is the Chancellor?"

"_She is fine,_" Cyrin stated. "_Dante, we need you to go to Corellia and bring Director Gran'gerst back to the Temple, so we can interrogate him_."

"Yes, Master," Dante replied.

"_We do not need to tell you to exercise caution, Master Ravenmoon_," Ash warned.

"I know, Ravenmoon out." With that he turned around and looked at his companions. "Looks like we're going to Corellia."

"What's there?" Atton asked.

"Much needed answers."

"Oh."


	20. All's Fair in Love and War

_All's Fair in Love and War _

She rubbed her temples as the group of Senators in front of her continued to speak. The dark clad neimoidian, Greco, in particular, seemed the most vocal.

"Chancellor, you must declare the Republic is in a state of war!"

"And why is that, Senator Greco?" She asked. It didn't go above her notice that these were the senators of the richest systems and core worlds in the Republic. If they left, the Republic would crumble.

"Because the attack today was unacceptable and the Sith are still declaring a war!"

"Master Jace?" She asked, turning to the man she had known for a long time.

He sighed. "I do not know what to suggest, Madame Chancellor. War seems too rash, yet we know that these attacks must not go unpunished. I would suggest that the Republic Intelligence begins to comb for the whereabouts of these _Sith_."

"That would take too long!" The neimoidian Senator exclaimed. "Madame Chancellor, you must declare the Republic in a state of war now! That is a necessity, otherwise you face the possibility of our systems withdrawing from the Republic."

"You wouldn't," she breathed.

"We are running out of options here, Chancellor," the green-skinned Senator said darkly.

"I will not lead the Republic into another war that it is guaranteed to lose!"

"Then let us ask Admiral Onasi," another Senator suggested.

"Carth?" She asked, hoping that her former friend from the war would agree with her.

Up to now he had stood there silently. But he could feel the pressure crushing down on him. He sighed and brought one hand to run through his greying hair. "Well, Chancellor Dodonna, the fleet has slowly been rebuilding—and with those new weapon refits, we should be ready to engage whatever numbers the Sith have. But, we're still stretched too thin—I'd have to recall every vessel patrolling the Outer Rim to the Mid Rim."

"See?" The Senator said. "We could begin to assault their forces."

"But we do not yet know how large their forces are—or _where_ they are located," she countered.

"And the fleet would take weeks to gather, let alone organize all supplies," Carth said. "As a veteran of the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War, I know how much can go wrong on the battlefield. And we're dealing with _Dark_ Jedi here."

"Well, Master Jace and the Jedi Order can assist," the Senator suggested.

"Unfortunately the Jedi Order will decide whether or not it will assist in the war—_if_ it comes to that. We're simply too few in number. We're in the double digits."

"That can be rectified," Greco said simply. "We can offer benefits to those adults who qualify as Force-sensitive, while the Jedi Order trains them with what they need."

This caused everyone in the room—especially Greco—to cringe when Cyrin spoke. "The Jedi will _not_ half train _adult_ Force-adepts. And the Jedi Order is not some company to be bought out in order to achieve this." His eyes locked onto the slightly cowering Neimodian's. "We're keepers of the peace, not _soldiers_."

"He's right," Carth said. "The Jedi are guardians of justice—what you're saying is wrong in so many ways."

"Leave a mere grunt to say something like that," the Senator scoffed. "Master Jace, I am disappointed in you. I thought a man of your reputation to be a bit more understanding about our plight."

"Oh I understand, Senator, but the Jedi will not be bought out and begin to manufacture mere adepts as soldiers."

"Hmph," the Senator said, as he turned to face Dodonna. "Madame Chancellor, I suggest you declare that the Republic is in a state of war, effective immediately or you will be finding a new job position rather soon." With that, the procession of Senators left, leaving only Dodonna, Carth and Cyrin in the room.

Dodonna could only sigh. "I only have fifteen minutes left until my speech, and already the Republic is on the verge of collapse."

"You will make the right decision, Forn," Cyrin said, resting a hand affectionately on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be of anymore help, Master Jace," Carth said sincerely.

"It is not your fault, Admiral Onasi," he replied. "The Senators are fools—the Jedi Order is not a manufacturing facility. I can only hope we get to the bottom of this, and soon."

"Well, whatever your decision, I stand ready to assist you, Master Jace."

"Thank you, Admiral Onasi," Cyrin said.

"Now, if you will excuse me," Carth said, "I have a fleet to mass." With that, he left the room.

"And then there were two," the Chancellor joked weakly.

"I'm sorry it has come to this, Forn," Cyrin said apologetically.

"Oh, it's not your fault, Cyrin. I just don't understand how all of this could have happened."

He cocked his head as he felt something he had been right about all along. She was telling the truth and she had no clue as to what was happening. That was enough to allow him to confide in her. "I think Director Gran'gerst and those Senators have something to do with this," he said.

"The Senators? Tamar? What do you mean?"

"The recent assaults against the Jedi Order and the Republic have been linked towards the facility on Corellia. I have already dispatched one of our more capable Knights to the planet to get to the bottom of this. Tamar is connected to this recent chain of events—and we do not yet know how or why."

"How can that be?"

"He has been the only one who has had any direct relation to the deaths of two of our Knights—and he wasn't at the Senate today during the assault. He is in Corellia. And today, the Senators have come to you in person, eager to give you an ultimatum. Something is obviously afoot."

"But what you're saying means that they've been dealing with the Sith…"

"Since the beginning of all of this. We do not know what the payoff is for him. All that is certain is that we must question him. I sense the Dark Side somewhere within him."

She sighed as she looked at her desk. "Then that means that all this time I've been fighting to hold the Republic together for nothing."

"Forn," Cyrin began, as he moved closer to her.

"Cyrin, this has all been for nothing?" She looked into his dark eyes, hardened with war and the curse of following the Jedi Code, thus forsaking what they both knew was there.

"Not everything," he said softly, taking her hand in his. "You're strong, willful and resourceful. You will find a way to keep the Republic together long enough—until the Force reveals its will."

She smiled softly and looked into their clasped hands. "I remember a time before politics, before war, when we would sit down and talk about the Force."

"As do I—but then war came."

She nodded, "true—but we had some great times before then."

"You know if things were different, I would have left the Order to stay with you," he stated regretfully, as he felt his heart weigh as heavy as that fateful day in his life.

"I know. But when the Mandalorians came—and the Order Knighted you—things went downhill from there."

He smiled softly as he reminded her, "but then Pollock came into your life. You two married, and had a son—who looks a lot like him."

She chuckled, "he's just like his father."

"I told you the Force would find a way and open a pathway to your destiny," he said. He turned away and looked out into the night sky of Coruscant, recounting his youth with her. The time they had spent before the Mandalorians came, before darkness ensued. He still felt the great weight at what he lost that day. But he also knew he gained a great many things, though it always seemed he was destined for infinite pain.

"Pollock died a long time ago—during the war," she recounted, as warm salty tears streaked slowly across her cheeks.

"And Noa has been there with you all this time. He's married, isn't he?"

"Yes, he married shortly after the Jedi Civil War—he has a little boy." She looked at his back, as she knew he felt the same way as her—their feelings had never died; it was merely buried for some time.

He turned around and took her by the hand, as he opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by the beeping and voice of the Chancellor's secretary.

"Madame Chancellor, it is time."

She looked down, as did he. She wanted to hear his voice tell her those words one more time, but she turned away and managed through her own disappointment, "I will be there shortly then."

"I am sorry, Forn," Cyrin said softly as he clasped one hand on her shoulder.

She brought one hand to touch his hand. "As am I," she said.

With that, the doors hissed open and the entourage of her personal guards escorted her towards the Senate Chambers.

Cyrin sighed as he walked out. _What am I thinking?_ He thought as he walked towards the turbolift. _I'm too old for this—she made her decision a long time ago, as did I. What I feel for her should not matter now._ He entered the turbolift and tapped a key, and couldn't help but wonder, _so why do I still love her?_


	21. Stage Two

_Stage Two _

She paced through the bridge, her patience was running thin. She wanted to assault the Republic now—but she knew that Deus had completed her second stage. The Republic would soon declare war or disband. Either way, she would have gained a victory and then begin to launch her final stage.

Atris looked out at Utapau once more. She found herself growing irate at the planet. Somehow it reeked of life—and needed to be purified. But no matter how many times she tried to order its destruction, she found herself in complete awe. The Force was strong in this planet, but somehow, it just continued to live, serving as a reminder of everything she had lost during those 5 miserable years after the war.

"No one had made the decisions for myself, other than myself. I have no one to blame but myself," she whispered, recounting the words of her predecessor. She sighed as she heard the footsteps of none other than the assassin, Lotus.

Atris found it particularly interesting how skilled this woman was, as it was exceptionally hard to detect her through the Force. But then again, another lesson came to mind: _there are techniques in the Force against which there is no defence_. Lotus outmatched even Atris' specially bred assassins, which only led Atris to more curiosity. _How could someone have beaten her?_ She sighed, _then again, I was defeated._

"Hatching more devious plots?" Lotus asked, undoubtedly smiling behind Atris' back.

"No, just looking at the planet below," Atris replied.

"First time for everything," she shrugged. "Your pet has come back," Lotus said after a moment of silence passed between them.

"So he has."

"It was a success."

"I know."

Lotus found herself growing slightly annoyed that Atris seemed far removed from the conversation. "Does it bother you that you lost all of those Dark Jedi?"

"Not at all," Atris admitted. She turned around, curious at Lotus' direction, as a smile played across her lips. "Does it bother you?"

Lotus shrugged. "Not really—just that when the time comes, you'll be low on manpower."

"It hardly matters. Manpower, droidpower, it all doesn't matter. The Galaxy will find itself in embers once I have finished what I have started."

This caused Lotus' eyes to narrow in close scrutiny as she folded her arms across her chest. "You have no intention of allowing the Sith Remnant to survive—or even take over the Galaxy, do you?"

Atris eyed Lotus suspiciously. "What does it matter to you? All you want is the Ravenmoon Jedi and nothing more."

Lotus could only smile. "I see you've done your research."

"I _was _a historian," she admitted. It seemed odd to her that their relationship had evolved to the point they could talk easily with one another. _I thought Sith were supposed to keep secrets and treat everyone—including their apprentice—as a threat?_

"To each his own," the assassin shrugged.

At that point, Deus walked into the throne room, kneeling in front of the two.

"Ah," Atris began, "what news do you bring, Deus?"

"The mission was a success, Mistress," the dark, synthesized voice answered.

"Good," she replied, pacing around her throne as Lotus stood away, beside Horn and Torn. "I trust that our allies are still alive?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Good. You will go back to the Galactic Capital, with two-thirds of the Dark Jedi compliment we have in the fleet. Lord Cain and his apprentice will go to the planet with you. You will wait until I inform you of your next instructions."

"Yes, Mistress," the figure replied as he rose, leaving towards the turbolift.

"What do you have in store now, I wonder?" Lotus asked the older woman, who merely smiled.

"I have something of particular interest to you, Lotus," Atris began.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"I've located your quarry."

This caused Lotus to unfold her arms and look at the older woman in surprise. "You have? How?"

"Simple—he's en route to Corellia. He intends to pay Tamar a visit."

"What do you want?"

"Kill Tamar and inform Scrimshaw to carry out a bombardment on the facility. You can do whatever you like with your Ravenmoon."

Lotus couldn't help but smile, until a sudden thought occurred to her. "What about the growing soldiers?"

"They are of no use to us anymore. The Jedi will find out about them—and they will stop it before the rest are ready for combat. We have all that we need—thanks to Deus and the assault against the Senate."

"Very well, my Lady," Lotus said, bowing.

"Whatever you choose to do at this point is of no concern to me."

"You shall always have my loyalty, Mistress Traya."

Atris could only smile as she watched Lotus leave. The woman would never live long enough to ascend to Empress of the Galaxy. Lotus would die along with the Jedi she sought.

She turned to a panel as a hologram displayed a female clad in elegant robes. Her greying hair was pulled elegantly back and she had aged gracefully. Atris has seen this woman before: it was Forn Dodonna, Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

"_Fellow delegates and people of the Republic, the horrific acts that have occurred in the Senate have opened my eyes to the realization that the Republic is once more in peril. After many meetings and after much strenuous thought, I have decided that the Republic will no longer be a central government. Intelligence reports have indicated that certain elements within the Republic have been responsible for the recent acts of subterfuge within the government. Several influential Senators have also informed me that the Republic must declare itself in a state of war or face collapse. Effective immediately, the Republic is no more—the Senators and Governors will maintain control over their respected regions. It is with much regret and with a heavy heart that I have come to this decision—if the Republic is to survive, it must fall. The funding for the planet restoration projects have been allocated and fixed to those responsible for the projects. Those planets will be rebuilt. And as my final act as Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, a fixed amount from all systems not affected by the war will continue to fund the relief efforts. Thank you._"

Atris allowed herself to smile once more. "And so it comes to an end," she said to no one in particular. "Thank you Forn Dodonna, now the Republic is gone. Now there will be nothing to stop the Sith from unleashing waves of destruction against the Galaxy." She looked at Horn and Torn and ordered, "go to Coruscant—to our cooperative Senators. Kill them."

Both of them bowed, turned and left. Once more, Atris was left alone—ready to plot Stage Three.


	22. Inner Turmoil

_Inner Turmoil _

Rena continued to pace through the chambers, as Bantha Squad continued to train with their stubby training lightsabers. Her mind had been on Dante a lot lately. He had reported to the Council a few hours ago and she was eager to hear the news of what he had said.

"Master Naver," one of the young children asked Rena, "my training saber is not working properly."

She looked down at the young child, a human girl no more than 7 years old.

The child's soft dark brown eyes revealed her innocence. She had locks of dark curls around her and her light brown skin only made Rena think more of her Master.

Rena could only smile at the child and said softly, "all right, let's see what is wrong with it." She sat down on a bench with the child and instantly recognized the problem: faulty power cell. "I've told you many times, Febe, you don't have to call me 'Master Naver,'" she said, as the child sat beside her. "Just call me Rena."

"Okay," she replied.

Rena began to help the child figure out the problem and after Febe learned the problem, she replaced the lightsaber with another functional one. Rena rose and after she was content that most of the younglings had learned enough for the day, she dismissed the class.

As she began to walk out of the room, Jolee greeted her.

"Dismissing the kids so soon?"

"They've had quite the workout today—they deserve to relax."

"So the story goes," he said. He looked at her and then said, "I heard you're the golden student of the…well I guess you could call it the 'Order.' Heh, not many promising students I see these days—except for those kids."

"Maybe, but I am just strong in the Force."

"So I've noticed. You seem to remind me of someone else—and I don't know if anyone else has noticed."

"Oh?" Rena furrowed her eyebrows and folded her arms across her chest. "Who do I remind you of, exactly?"

"Someone who seemed to give me the exact same attitude you're giving me," he smiled, revealing perfect white teeth that matched his snow-white goatee.

"You still haven't told me, Master Bindo," she replied.

"Please, let's cut the formalities. Just call me Jolee."

"All right, _Jolee_," she replied, stressing his name and earning a raised brow for her efforts, "who do I remind you of?"

"On second thought," he began, "let's get something to eat. I'm kind of hungry." He rubbed his belly and noticed she stood still and carried an adamant expression of that person who she reminded him of.

"I am not going anywhere until you tell me," she said.

"You kids, don't you respect your elders anymore?" He chuckled and they began to walk towards the mess hall as he explained. "His name is Revan—I don't suppose you've heard of him, have you?"

"Revan?" Rena asked thickly, stopping dead center in the hallway. She felt her blood contract towards her organs, leaving the rest of her body cold and tingly. "I've heard _of_ him, but I never really _knew_ him."

"Well," he began, smacking his lips, feeling apprehension surround the young woman, "Revan was someone who I met back on Kashyyyk—a handsome, pompous man who believed in the tenets of the Jedi Order and sought pleasure by annoying Bastila." He eyed her and realized that she continued to appear apprehensive. "Are you all right?"

She looked around and then looked back at him. Somehow, she had the feeling she could tell him a secret—one of the many things that had been plaguing her for some time. "Actually, there _is_ something that I need to confess…"

* * *

After spending a few hours listening to Jolee speak about his past adventures with Revan and Bastila, Rena found herself pacing in her quarters. The traits the old man had mentioned between her and Revan seemed to be on the mark. It disturbed her how she never noticed that both of them were equally powerful in the Force and they had the same oceanic blue eyes and raven black hair.

She would make it a point to have her long hair cut short to her shoulders.

What disturbed her the most was that she had even confided her ability to sense Revan's presence through the Force to the old man.

Not even Bastila, who had formed such a powerful bond with the Jedi, could feel him as strongly as Rena could.

She paced around her quarters and continued to wonder what else she seemed to have in common with the Jedi Knight. She could very well have been the Jedi's little sister.

_Come on, _she thought fervently, _I am not related to Revan in any way. Or could I…? _She looked at herself in the mirror as she continued to ponder. _Where are you Master?_

She sighed as she lay down on her bed, wondering what might come of this possible connection to Revan.

She sighed as she wondered what might become of her Master if he was in the trouble she sensed him in.

Rena sat up and looked out at the window that revealed the night sky of the city planet. _Am I destined to forever keep secrets from those that take me in and love me?_

The truth was that she _knew_ why she ran from those slavers, all those years ago. She _knew_ why she had the connection with Revan, and more importantly, she _knew_ what was to come to the Jedi Order and the Galaxy if she continued to leave them in the dark.

The only problem was that she feared what would happen to her and everyone that mattered to her—namely, Dante, the Younglings, Frreral and now Jolee.

Already, the Republic had dissolved, with thousands of systems forming small coalitions, while the Republic Navy protected the Mid-rim and the Core. These coalitions already formed shaky alliances with one another, while darkness continued to creep through the Galaxy.

Rena continued to look out as the millions of citizens of Coruscant continued to tread busily in their lives, unaware and uncaring towards the changes that were occurring throughout the Galaxy. _At least there are some people who will benefit from this,_ she mused, as she thought of Kuat Drive Yards and other military contractors that would stand to gain from the formation of the planetary alliances.

She lay back down on her bed, throwing blankets over herself as she found herself beginning to drift into the darkness. _I hope you are safe, Master—soon we will be together again._ _If the Force wills it_, she added before she knew nothing but darkness.

_

* * *

They raced through the dark hallways, sapphire blades lighting the way, deflecting crimson energy as soldiers, donned in an array of armour types, raced behind them, firing at the figures before the pair._

_They stood there, firing relentlessly, as they fell by the numbers. Bipedal droids that reflected the look of the Mandalorians that had plagued the Galaxy almost 13 years earlier slowly marched towards the bolstered soldiers that raced towards them. _

_And in a flash, the gaps were closed as flesh burned and metal clanged against metal, screams and hisses were heard, as the thrums of lightsabers tore through the numbers of droids and blasters shot forth scarlet bolts that slammed into full-bodied figures. _

_The figure with the sapphire blade, with raven black hair longer than Dante's, running towards the man's chin, thrust forth his lightsaber, impaling a droid as he extended his arm and sent a trio of droids flying away. His goatee seemed the only trimmed and neat trait about him, as he was covered in dirt and soot from countless battles. He wore black boots and breeches, while his torso was highlighted with grey fibermesh armour and silver gauntlets covered his forearms._

_She stood beside him, deflecting crimson bolts, sending three into a hapless droid, felling it. Her raven hair was short and ran down to the nape of her neck. Her grey, almond shaped eyes revealed her intensity, though her raven hair appeared to be nowhere near as dark as the man's. She wore grey robes that had custom fitted plates on her chest and torso. Her soft pale skin was darkened with the soot and dirt from past battles as well._

_Both of their eyes met and they nodded determinedly as they stood poised for what awaited them at the other end of the tunnel. _

"_You might want to fall back and carry out the mission—we can handle this," the male called out to the soldiers behind him._

"_Yes sir!" They called as they fell back, racing into other corridors and began to carry out their mission: destroy the foundry and stop droid production._

"_Revan!" She called, "heads up!"_

_He looked at the end of the hallway as the large doorway was torn asunder and out of it came a large 15-foot, heavily armoured, wardroid. "Looks like we're going to have to do this together, Theresa," he mumbled as they both raised their lightsabers high into the air and leapt towards it._

_They both gave out a loud cry as their blades came racing towards the droid._

* * *

She sat up, screaming out as she gathered her bearings, noticing that Coruscant's night sky had grown to the fiery ribbons of early dawn. The slits of light marked its path in her room, as she breathed heavily, her chest rising with every deep breath, as sweat doused her garments and her disheveled hair.

She rose from the bed, walking slowly towards the refresher as she found herself deep in thought. _Revan and the Exile were about to fight some large tank droid? I have to tell the Council immediately—though what do I say? 'I had a vision of Revan and Theresa fighting a tank droid in some remote system?'_

She shook her head. _They'll never believe me, except for Master Bindo._ She sighed as she made her way into the shower, throwing off her sweat stained garments. _Why do I trust him?_ She found herself thinking. _He seems honest, wise and very laid back. I can only hope he keeps my secret in good trust._

She remembered what the old man had said earlier. _I can only hope that you tell the Council when you are ready—the Jedi may have some of the answers to what you are looking for, and perhaps it will shed some light on the whereabouts of Revan and the Exile in these troubling times. _She found it strange that the old man was right, yet somehow, what she found even more peculiar was that she _trusted_ the man more than the Council. Something in her seemed to recognize Jolee in some way, but she wasn't sure how or why. She shrugged and assumed it was merely the Force that told her to trust Jedi Master Jolee Bindo.

_Perhaps the old man is right_, she thought. _I will tell the Council soon—but when Dante returns_, she decided. _He'll stand by me_. _He's never failed me._ She smiled as she felt her heart lighten at the thought of the man. _Come back soon, Dante_.

* * *

"_Theresa!" He yelled as he leaped across the carbon scored corridors. "Get down!" He shoved her out of the way as he tucked himself in a ball and rolled on the ground, rolling onto his knees in one fluid movement. _

_He extended both of his hands, throwing the heavily scarred tank droid across from them. He wasted no time, as he revealed a thermal detonator and lobbed it at the droid, sending pieces of the biped's chest flying towards the pair as it exploded. _

_He brought both of his hands in front of them and directed them in their respective directions, sending the shrapnel flying away. _

_He sighed, only to be sent flying away as crimson energy crashed into his left side. _

_Theresa rose and extended her hand, bringing Revan's sapphire blade into her hand as she called the Force to augment her speed. _

_Undaunted, the droid continued to fire its shoulder cannon, despite the fact its targeting sensors were long since gone._

_She growled as she raced along the walls, dodging every blast. She threw Revan's lightsaber into the face of the droid, as she jumped and brought her lightsaber over her head, using the Force to give her the strength to drive the blade through. The sapphire blade connected, biting into the metallic skin of the burly droid. As she began her descent, her blade continued to run itself down the droid unabated. _

_When she landed, the droid collapsed in two and didn't get up again. She sighed and clipped her blade to her belt. "Nothing like a workout, eh Revan?" _

_There was no reply. _

"_Revan?" She turned around and was shocked to see him lying on the ground, bloodied and unconscious. _

_Theresa rushed to his side, pulling his body close to her. "Revan!" She called out to him, as few of the commandoes ran to their aid, one of them opening a medpac. "Revan, wake up! Are you all right?"_

_He could only groan, as blood had stained his robes and some of the blood had caked around the corner of his lips. _

"_Get him into a medical capsule immediately!" She barked as the commandoes pulled Revan's weak and tired form with them. _

_His left arm was covered in blood and ended just past his elbow. _

_Theresa turned away and extended her hand, calling Revan's fallen lightsaber to her hand. She studied it and noticed the small inscriptive found there: _Our greatest Evil flows from ourselves.

_She smiled half-heartedly as she clipped it to her belt. "Only _you_ would have something like that, wouldn't you, Revan?" She turned around and followed the rest of the group away from the corridors, leaving the foundry to explode in a burst of colours, as ash and smoke consumed the decadence of life around it. _

_Proton Cores had a tendency to do that.

* * *

_

**Author's Notes: The saying: "**Our greatest Evil flows from ourselves," **comes from Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a philosopher and something of an anarchist in the nature of Humans. I hope you enjoy how I am writing Revan and the Exile--but rest assured, they will be written in as more than just 'visions.' Anyway, the plot begins to thicken as more and more things are still to come in _Catharsis_. **


	23. Fires of Old

_Fires of Old _

They had arrived to the Galactic Capital, hidden within the dark slums of the Industrial Sector of the planet, relatively close to the Political District.

Cain walked through the dusty, worn chambers of the ancient structure. To his right, strode Sebastian Marseilles, the confident young man who so fervently desired the Sith Mantle.

"In patience, my young Apprentice," Cain said softly, as they observed the view outside of the night sky. The rest of the Dark Jedi had found their quarters and had stayed there. The only ones who had meandered through the hallways of the structure were Cain, Sebastian and Deus.

"Master, Mistress Traya has not been using the Republic's collapse to her full advantage." He looked around, confident that the personal drone of hers was not around and he faced his Master. "We could overthrow her and then we can rule the _Sith_!" He hissed.

Cain shook his head. "You must learn patience, my Apprentice—we must gather whatever resources we can, so that in time, we will have the favour of most of the Sith Remnant. We can keep our eye for her to finally slip up, and _then_ we overthrow her. You must be wise and savour every moment and use it to your advantage, Sebastian," he reminded the younger man.

"I understand, Master," he answered, bowing as he turned and left. _The old fool's days are numbered. How dare he thinks he is my superior. _

Cain watched his apprentice walk down the corridors and turned, shaking his head, smiling sardonically. _That boy is a fool—it will soon be time to replace him._ He continued to walk leisurely through the hallway, as he humoured himself with the thought of what he could do to ensure his position would never be usurped. _There is no one here that would make a fine apprentice, _he realized, sighing reluctantly.

His head perked up as he realized there was one way he could find a new apprentice. _The Jedi Remnant_, he smiled. _I am sure they have some very impressionable Younglings that would make fine apprentices._

He felt a strange wave of the Force, as an intense weight found itself pressing down on his chest. He rubbed it and turned around, knowing who this presence was.

Behind him stood the dark clad figure, with grafted Bothan eye sensors and what appeared to be a rebreather covering his mouth.

"Yes?" The Sith Lord asked. He had hated this one immediately. Somehow there was a familiar, if not disturbing, feeling about the figure.

"It is time," the synthesized voice replied.

"What does the Mistress request of me?" Cain contemplated his chances of defeating the warrior-bred creature, if only to see how his exceptional skill with a lightsaber would compare to that of the creature.

"You must go to the Senator's building and eliminate the Chancellor."

"That is an assassin's job—not mine," Darth Cain scoffed.

"Nevertheless, it is what the Mistress wills," the figure replied, undaunted. He cocked his head. "Unless of course you wish to deny the orders of the Mistress?"

He suppressed a violent shudder, attempting to stare Deus in the face. "No, of course not," the old man replied somewhat weakly, struggling to smile. Something in the creature's tone and expression had given the old man chills—and dark, terrifying thoughts seemed to permeate through his weaker mental barriers.

"Good," Deus replied, with something that sounded like a hint of sadness in his tone.

Regaining his composure and clearing his throat, Cain merely walked away, as the sounds of his boots clacking on the ground became minute and distant. _I better keep an eye on that one_, he mused as he left the structure, taking a small, one-man speeder towards the Republic Capital.

* * *

"Cleaning out your wares so soon?" He asked her, as she began to pack her things from the office.

Forn Dodonna, no longer _Supreme Chancellor_ of the Galactic Republic—or any organization for that matter—returned a weary, but genuine smile. "I regret that I must," she said, her silver hair tousled and untidy, making her appear even more somnolent.

Cyrin nodded dourly, "you did what had to be done, Forn. There was no other way that the Galaxy—or the Republic for that matter—could have survived another war."

"Maybe," she replied somewhat half-heartedly. She moved to pick up a statuette, continuing to fill up her box.

"You did the right thing," he gave an earnest mien.

She paused, looking up at the dark skinned, bald man, the statuette in her hand. "Was it really?" She asked. "I was given an ultimatum by company of Senators—my Director of Intelligence didn't even trust me! The Jedi Order is in ruins, the Republic is gone and yet I am still being told that the threat of war looms over the horizon. Several coalitions have even begun an armistice—trying to dissuade the Republic fleet to separate and join them as their own military—as _mercenaries_. The fleet is still under orders from Carth, who has managed to convince most of the Core to remain loyal to the Republic—or whatever seeks to replace it. I put a lot of people out of a job today, Cyrin, and I have provoked Galactic turmoil on an unprecedented level! I don't really feel that I have done anything right."

Cyrin sighed exasperatedly.

She continued placing the statuette into the box that lay open before her. After a few more moments of silence, she looked up at the man, tears in her eyes as she found herself tired, weak and most of all, angry. She was angry at herself, for letting the Republic fall and forcing the Galaxy to finally fall away from any chance at regaining its golden age. "You know," she began, sobbing in between her words, as her hand covered her mouth, "I'm so tired. I've spent the last 5 years trying to rebuild the Republic and it has all come down to this. So many good people _died_ for the Republic and the Galaxy—and I've failed them."

Cyrin looked at her and his normally stone-like expression changed to one of concern, sympathy and another emotion—one that many, save for Forn, had never seen in their lifetimes. "Forn," he whispered, "you didn't fail them. The Galaxy needs time to heal itself—to rebuild and begin anew. You worked your hardest and you're a strong woman. I am honoured—no, _proud_—to know you all these years. You managed to help those worlds that have been battered by the war. Few Chancellors would even be able to accomplish something such as that."

She sniffled, barely managing a smile, as she saw him cover the gap between them in three long strides.

He brought his arms around her, wrapping her in a warm, loving hug. "Forn, you have done great things—no one could ever ask for more than what you have given. And few can understand the things you have lost—the things that you may have been forced to do." He pulled her from the embrace; bringing his face close to hers, as he felt her panting and the soft breeze of her breath touch him. "You won't ever have to do that again—no one will ever ask you to."

Her moist grey eyes stared deeply into his dark brown eyes. Even in her most vulnerable moments, she knew she could always count on Cyrin Jace—the man she had always loved since they were young adults.

His normally menacing dark eyes always seemed to become softer, more vivid in emotion when he was with her. It had always been like that, and somehow, it never seemed to bother him as much as others may have thought—had they known, of course.

"Do you promise?"

He smiled affectionately, "of course, Forn."

She embraced him. "Never let me go," she whispered after what seemed an eternity in their embrace.

"I never will," he replied, feeling the smile that had undoubtedly crept on her face, as she buried her face in his cloak. In a much lower voice, he whispered, "I love you, and I will not lose you again."

She looked up at him and smiled, replying, "I love you too, Cyrin."

The Jedi Master smiled perfectly content. For the first time in his life, something had finally gone right.

Her countenance changed immediately, as she asked, "but what of the Jedi Order? The Code forbids—,"

He rose up a hand to finish the sentence. "The Code may forbid it, however, these are new times for the Jedi Order. As soon as the Jedi Order deals with this mystery of the missing Knights, I'll resign from the Order and start my life with you."

"But what of the Council?"

"Ash has demonstrated his ability to lead the Council wisely," he replied, smiling reassuringly, as his lips touched her silver hair. "Besides," the man added, shrugging a bit, "I think he will understand."

She rested her head on his chest as they held the embrace for a moment longer, before she moved her head away to look at him.

As they looked into each other's eyes, they leaned towards each other, slowly, as their mouths parted and their eyes began to close, eager to rekindle the long lost fires of their past.

And as they inched closer, their lips barely touching each other, the door hissed open.

Caught off-guard, the couple let go of each other and turned around, as a bolt of blue electricity came hurtling towards Cyrin, throwing him back into the wall, forcing whatever air he had in his lungs to explode from him.


	24. Masters of the Force

_Masters of the Force _

Tarn walked through the pristine hallways of the Jedi Temple in his usual calm demeanour. It hardly bothered him anymore that there were few Jedi within the Temple or throughout the Galaxy for that matter.

His blue eyes matched his light brown hair that was pulled neatly back, almost with its own small ponytail. He was clad in the same brown cloak and white robes of his former Master, Ash Merrick. As it turned out, the young Jedi Knight was on his way to see his former Master, who Tarn seemed to bear a resemblance to, save for the beard. He strode through several stairways, as he entered through the doorway to the Jedi Council chambers.

"Ah, Master Tarn," Len said, waking Ash from his reverie as he stared out into the night sky of the city-planet.

"Masters," the Jedi Knight bowed. He was older than Dante by 6 years, but he appeared less haggard than the younger Knight. It was no secret that he worried about his comrade, but he knew Dante would come around soon and would be relieved of his troubles.

"Sit down, Tarn," Ash said in his usually soft manner. With the exception of Cyrin, Dante and Jolee, the rest of the able-bodied Jedi Knights and Masters were present. That only meant Frreral, Ash, Len, Sneed and Tarn.

The Jedi Knight sat down, curious as to what caused the Council to convene so late at night—and without three of the other members. "What's going on?"

Ash cleared his throat before he spoke, standing near the windowpane. "As you now know, Frreral has been honoured with the title of _Master_, after his time on Kashyyyk."

Tarn nodded—as did Sneed and Len.

"What we didn't know until now was what those _things_ he encountered was."

"And we do now?" Sneed asked.

"Jolee has been one of my oldest and truest friends, and he has informed me of something that warrants more investigation. The presences he felt before he and Frreral eliminated the Dark Jedi that were mutilated, was of one person alone. A former Jedi. And even now, as we speak, another person we know has that same connection—whether intentionally or not—to the same former Jedi. Somehow, it all correlates to that facility where we lost Gideon and Toll. Dante has been ordered to go to that facility on Corellia and he is searching it, even now, as we speak."

"Who exactly is this person we are talking about here, Master Merrick?" Tarn asked, running one hand through his neat brown hair.

"Master Ravenmoon's Padawan learner, Rena Naver, is somehow connected to the dark creatures back on Kashyyyk, and even now on Corellia."

"Rena?" The younger Knight asked curiously, his expression revealing a similarity to Ash Merrick. _Somehow I have the impression there is more to this than what meets the eye_.

The older Master sighed. "We do not understand it, but she has some connection to Revan. She can lead us to him—and it appears he has been fighting the Sith all this time."

"Revan? And he is fighting the Sith?" Sneed asked.

Len brought up a hand to prevent any further questioning. "There's more."

"The Sith we have been fighting all this time, are nothing more than cultists. Revan and the Exile are fighting against the _True_ Sith Empire, who has been behind the dissolution of the Jedi Order over the last 15 years, give or take. And the Republic—no, the _Galaxy_ has been weakened from Revan's efforts during his time as Dark Lord of the Sith."

Tarn leaned back, taking all of this into his system as he ran a hand across his smooth face. "So what do you propose?" He asked after a few more moments passed by.

Len and Ash glanced at one another before they looked at the others. "Effective immediately, you and Sneed are to become Jedi Masters—there is no time for a ritual or official ceremony. Time is of the essence, and we will need the both of you more than ever."

Both newly ranked Masters glanced at one another.

"Masters?" Sneed asked. "Do the others know? And what is it that needs to be done?"

"Cyrin and Jolee are aware of it. As it stands, Cyrin is on his way to the Chancellor to tie up some loose ends. Jolee is resting and as for Dante—well, we don't know what the two new recruits he has with him are like."

"But surely we can wait to be knighted as Masters at some other given time. Dante must be here—he must be informed of his Apprentice's ability," Tarn reasoned.

"Under normal circumstances, I'd agree with you," Len said. Something had obviously caused both Masters to look at one another apprehensively.

"But," Ash continued, "these are not normal circumstances. We have reason to believe that Rena may be indirectly linked to the incidents on Corellia and she may have been responsible for the assault on the Senate."

"Surely you can't be serious!" Frreral—who, up to this point, remained silent—exclaimed. "She is a kind soul and I feel the Light Side swirling around her."

"Appearances can often be deceiving," Sneed reminded the wookiee Jedi.

"So says you," the wookiee snorted back. "You want the Jedi to be something of a career. There is far more responsibilities to this Unifying Force." Frreral looked back towards the others. "Rena is of the Light Side—I can sense nothing but good from her heart."

"But she carries a twinge of regret," reminded Len.

"I have to agree with Frreral, Masters," Tarn replied. "Rena is not a traitor."

Ash's expression softened. "Nevertheless, Tarn, Rena may be doing this without being aware. She might be the Sith we're looking for."

"_Traya_?" Frreral asked in a tone of incredulity.

"And what of Dante?" Tarn asked. "Rena is his Apprentice—his Padawan learner. Suffice it to say, what we do will have a profound effect on him."

"I sense much distress in Dante," Sneed said, ignoring the stares of Tarn and Frreral. "He will understand—but I fear he may become hysterical and will have to be dealt with."

Ash shook his head. "No, what you're suggesting is something far more drastic. The Council won't have that. Dante has been a loyal member of the Jedi Order."

"And he is not here now, is he? He is far off in space—traveling to Corellia, as you say."

"What exactly are you trying to suggest, _Master_ Ze?" Frreral barked.

Sneed looked back at Frreral. "He may be aware of Rena's secret and kept it hidden from us."

"No," Ash said, "as logical as that somehow sounds, it doesn't seem probable. Dante would have informed the Council or he would have somehow taught her to steer away from it."

"So you say, Master Merrick," Sneed said, his voice turning calm and cool, "but you must admit that Dante's actions lately have been questionable. The situation on Dantooine merited that he stay there until those Republic cruisers arrived."

"He left, taking the Sith fleet with him—_he_ saved Dantooine from a cruel fate," Tarn said slowly.

"Dante has been my friend for a long time and he would have done that only to save the people," Frreral replied.

"But nevertheless, he _left_ when any of us would have stayed," Sneed suggested.

"Be that as it may, Dante's integrity has never been questioned," Tarn replied fiercely.

Ash sighed and shook his head softly at his former Apprentice. He knew the man was right.

"He had broken the Code during your mission to find the holocron entitled _Unifier_, did he not, Master Frreral?" Sneed asked the Jedi Master.

"He did, however you should tell me one Jedi who did not?"

"I didn't, Master Frreral. Dante fell in love with another Jedi Knight and when she was killed—he gave _in_ to the Dark Side!"

"It has been known to happen from time to time," Tarn said cautiously. He glanced at Frreral and then at Ash. They knew exactly what Sneed was suggesting.

"And before he rejoined the Jedi Order, he was an emotional wreck, was he not?"

"Let's stop this line of questioning," Len said softly.

Sneed turned to face the nautolan Master. "Master Vizta, Dante could have known about Rena's abilities. Suffice it to say, that when he arrives, he should stand trial, as well as his apprentice."

Ash could only sigh. What he really wanted had somehow gone awry within this meeting. With new Masters, they could have begun training their eldest Padawans, while providing aid to the battered and beleaguered Galaxy. He had counted on Tarn's support, but somewhere it had gotten lost in order to defend one of the younger man's trusted friends. He smiled inwardly, knowing that at least the boy he trained would move on to greater things, even if he didn't know the truth of his origins.

Seizing a momentary pause in the Masters' arguments, Ash raised a hand and spoke brusquely. "Now is not the time, we will have to wait for the other Masters to arrive—_they_ will help us decide what to do about Rena and Dante. In the meantime, Masters Frreral, Vizta and I called this meeting so we can inform you of what has been occurring as of late. The Republic has collapsed with few Core Worlds retaining whatever is left of the Republic. We are on our own and the Galaxy needs us. The Sith have risen and we need to prepare to stop the threat of the Dark Side from ever taking hold of the Galaxy once more."

Len looked at all of the Masters, picking up where his trusted friend left off. "It is now time for us to take on Padawans old enough to become as such. This is a perilous time—and the future lies in our hands, as well as those of the future Jedi."

Tarn nodded somberly, knowing that without much in the way of communication, there was no way to warn Dante of the Council's decision. He looked at Frreral and noticed the Master felt the same way.

Before anyone—especially Sneed—could say anything else, they felt the pressure and weight of the Dark Side creep into their bodies, raising Goosebumps along their bodies and informing them of one thing. They were too late.

Before anyone could react, a loud explosion resounded throughout the Temple. The Sith had arrived.


	25. Enemies

_Enemies _

Forn let out a scream as she watched Cyrin crash into the wall, and he collapsed to the ground, letting out a low grunt. Her hands went to her mouth as she stared in horror as she noticed the figure that stood before her.

"Hello," boomed a deep, dark and articulate voice. "I don't believe we met." The figure moved towards her, his expression—as was his voice—jovial. He was clad in elegant and aristocratic robes, as a velvet coloured cape was draped on both of his shoulders. He had snow-white hair slicked back that seemed to match the neatly trimmed goatee that appeared on his pale and slightly mottled skin. "I'm Dietrich Cain—but you may call me Darth—no, _Lord _Cain."

She eyed him warily. "What do you want?" She began to back up, moving towards the desk, as the old man talked. If he noticed what she was doing, he made no sign of it.

He held a thoughtful expression for a moment, smiling once he felt he had found the right words. "Regrettably, I come only for you," he replied, smiling darkly as his eyes hungrily feasted on the sight before him.

This was one of the few times when Forn regretted the stigma of appearing as a regal, elegant and handsome woman. She continued to make her way slowly towards the desk, looking for that comlink, hoping to catch the man off-guard.

"Though I must say," he continued, "you're quite the _catch_." His smile never left his expression. He shifted his eyes—regrettably—towards the collapsed figure, who now struggled to rise. "Ah, Master Jace, my friend," Darth Cain began, "I didn't realize you had survived after all these years."

The only reply from Jace was a low groan as he futilely tried to rise.

Forn looked at the two men, and feeling fear pierce her heart for what Dietrich Cain might do to Cyrin, she picked up the small statuette and began to run at the Sith Lord.

He felt her anger rise and he knew that he would enjoy this. He grew annoyed, however, due to the fact that he would have to leave his old friend for a moment. Turning back and extending a hand, he sent Forn flying back, yelling as she crashed into one of the pillars of the room. He smiled inwardly as he enjoyed the pain and torture he would undoubtedly carry out this day. "As you can see," he began, weighing his words with careful precision, "my powers are vastly beyond _any_ Jedi. You would do well to stay out of this affair, Chancellor."

She groaned as she found herself close to losing consciousness, barely hearing the words that came from the Sith figure.

The old man chortled, unaware that Cyrin Jace now stood behind him.

With a cold, venomous tone, the Jedi Master said, "hello Dietrich. It's been a _long_ time."

The Sith Lord's expression became fearful. "You're no match for me—try as you might, old _friend_." With his back still turned to Cyrin and trying hard not to stammer as he spoke, he quickly calculated his chances of actually surviving now.

With a mere gesture, Cyrin sent the older man flying away, crashing against the other side of the room. "You will stay away from her, traitor."

Panting as he rose, Cain looked at Cyrin. "I see some things never change, do they, Cyrin? Even now you flock to her and the Republic is at an end. The Code prohibits any attachments—or do you fail to remember? Stay out of this affair or die, Jedi. My powers are beyond any Jedi now."

With a threatening and welcoming expression, Cyrin produced his silver lightsaber handle. "I don't think so."

Cain merely smiled. "We shall see about that." He extended both of his hands, sending a wave of the Force flying towards the dark skinned Master. As he watched Cyrin bring his arms together, his forearms crossing against each other against the Force wave, Cain raced towards Forn—who happened to only be rising now—and he wrapped one arm around her throat and ignited his crimson lightsaber in the other.

Repulsing the Force wave, Cyrin turned about, his rich, dark brown cloak swirling about him, as he faced Cain, who was now hiding behind Forn. "Is this what the Sith have taught you, Dietrich?"

The older man sneered, "don't be foolish. I am far more powerful than you—and it would be wise of you to stay out of this affair. I won't tell you again. All I want is _her_."

"You can't have her," Cyrin stated threateningly, as he ignited his violet blade. The tempest beneath his exterior threatened to break loose, as he kept his exterior calm. The temptation to drive his blade into the Sith Lord seemed all too welcoming as he felt fear for her very life. _I won't lose her now!_ He swore silently.

Sensing Cyrin's rage slowly rising, Cain's dark smile returned to his face. "Very well," he said slowly and deliberately. "Have it your way." He threw her aside, sending her flying towards the wall, as she crashed into it and blue energy seemed to encroach her, rendering her immobile. "It is just you and I."

They began to circle each other, staring intently into each other's eyes. Rage seemed to swirl between the pair.

"As it should be," Cain finished, as he kept his lightsaber angled towards the floor in a defensive pattern. The old man had been a master of the second form of lightsaber combat: Makashi. He preferred the elegance of dueling and he had continued to hone his technique, turning his fighting style to something more of an art. As always, he maintained a calm demeanour when it came to fighting, though his anticipation of fighting his former friend seemed to whet his appetite.

Cyrin kept his blade angled towards the Sith's throat, before he brought it over his head and swung down at the Sith Lord.

The old man smiled as he brought his blade up horizontally, blocking the violet blade that thrummed violently. Both lightsabers met for a brief moment, hissing as they touched, before Cain angled his blade and sidestepped to his left, rolling the hilt around before he thrust towards Cyrin's stomach, only to meet the violet blade again.

Now it was Cyrin's turn to show his level of skill. He smacked the crimson lightsaber away, as he rushed towards the former Jedi, bringing the blade over his head and swinging at Cain again, as both blades crackled against one another.

The Sith spun about, parrying the next thrust and attempting to follow up with a riposte, as Cyrin strafed right, causing the Sith Lord to stumble.

He extended his right arm away from his body, leaving himself open and daring the Sith to make a thrust for his chest.

Knowing it was a feint, Cain feigned a lunge, spinning himself in the opposite direction Cyrin rotated, as both of their blades crackled once more in a lock. "I sense much fear in you, old friend," Cain mustered as they both continued to gain no ground against one another.

Cyrin's expression maintained its stoicism, as he rotated his lightsaber, forcing Cain to move back and do the same, as they both lunged at one another.

Bringing his lightsaber in a horizontal fashion to block, Cyrin deflected the crimson blade and snapped out with his fist, causing it to collide against the Sith's face.

Sent stumbling back, Cain growled as he brought one hand to rub the bruise that was undoubtedly forming on his cheek. "I sense much _anger_ in you—use it! Show me the hatred you have for me—for betraying you and the Order! Give in!" He smiled darkly.

"No!" Cyrin yelled as he brought his lightsaber in an overhead swing again, hitting Cain's blade once more, forcing the hard-as-nails Master to turn about, attempting to slice one leg and the other, only to meet the blade of the skilled Sith Lord once more.

_He's slowly gaining ground!_ Dietrich Cain thought, as he blocked a horizontal slash and an upward slash. _He could prove useful in the Dark Side—but he may be too dangerous_. Cain arced his blade in a semi-circle, connecting with the violet shaft of energy, as both blades crackled and hissed. _He won't beat me! _He screamed in his mind, as he smacked the Master's blade away and threw all of his weight on his left leg as he pivoted on his hips, extending his right leg as it connected with a thick thud against the Master's chest.

As he attempted to regain his footing, Cyrin paused for a moment, staring at Cain darkly. "You won't win, _old friend_."

"I will kill you, Cyrin—it is inevitable."

"I don't think so," the dark man sneered. He brought his lightsaber up to his chest, in an upright position. "Your move."

Cain chuckled darkly. "You always were the impatient one." He thrust out with his lightsaber, and spun about, slashing horizontally as both blades continued to smack against one another.

Growling, Cyrin locked blades and followed through with a semi-circle as he swung in a figure-eight pattern.

Cain leapt back, full of rage, and forgetting about finesse, he aimed for the violet lightsaber, attempting to cut Cyrin off at the source.

Anticipating a bold move, Cyrin let Cain reach for his lightsaber, only to flick his wrist and parry the crimson blade away. "You're done," he whispered as he rotated his blade, severing Cain's arm in half, right at the elbow.

Gasping in pain, he collapsed to the ground, on his knees, cradling his arm as he looked up pleadingly at the Jedi Master.

"You've lost, _traitor_," Cyrin said, as he stared darkly at the man who had used to be his friend.

"Please," he mustered, "I have valuable information for you!"

"You're a traitor to the Jedi Order and you should be killed." _No,_ some part of him reasoned, as its reasoning somehow overwhelmed the Jedi Master. It had always been like that. He let go of his anger, as he felt the tunes and subtle vibrations of the Force reveal something else—something _brooding_ within the streets of Coruscant. The rattle and hums of the Force told the Master that it was heading towards the Jedi Temple—a large Dark Side presence. Dietrich Cain had been nothing more than a diversion.

"No," he begged, pleading as he looked at his former friend. He felt the wave of the Dark Side moving towards the Jedi Temple and three faces came to mind: the cold, expressionless Traya, the smug expression of his Apprentice, Sebastian Marseilles and finally the most terrifying one of them all, the heartless, aberrational mien of Deus. He realized that he had been nothing but a mere distraction while the others would carry out an assault. His expression soon grew vengeful, as he repeated, "no!" He extended his remaining hand, as tendrils of blue energy began to form at the fingertips.

Knowing that there would be no other choice, Cyrin extended one hand, sending the man crashing into the glass window. He watched as it shattered, throwing the former Jedi away from the office and plummeting down to his death.

Clipping the lightsaber to his belt, he sighed as he closed his eyes, feeling Dietrich Cain's presence merge with the Force. _Goodbye, old friend—I hope you find peace in the Force._ _Forn!_ He opened his eyes as he turned and saw Forn lying on the ground, coughing. "Forn!" He raced towards her and cradled her in his arms.

She coughed and looked up at him, at his dark eyes that were full of caring, concern and _humanity_. It was the humanity in his eyes that she had missed for so long.

"Are you all right?" He asked her, as he caressed her cheek with his one free hand.

She nodded, smiling weakly. "I almost thought I had lost you," she managed.

"You never will—I'll always be there when you need me."

She smiled.

He kissed her forehead and they rose. His mind turned to the thought of those at Temple—unable to thwart off any attack, since there were only a handful of Jedi there. The children would more than likely be killed or captured. He would never allow that to happen as long as he had breath in his body. His countenance suddenly grew serious and grim as he looked at Forn. "We need to go and warn the Temple—this was merely a diversion. The Sith are going to attack the Temple!"

* * *

**Author's Notes: Yeah, this is getting real close to the climax, and we're going to find out more about what the Force has in store for our loveable characters. I've actually finished _Catharsis_, but I am editing the final chapters for the final installment. I hope you're enjoying _Catharsis_, I know I actually enjoyed writing up this story. For those of you who might be curious, _The Rise of Darth Revan_ is in no way related to this. Since I am finishing off this story, I'll be paying closer attention _toThe Rise of Darth Revan,_so expect more things to occur throughout that story. I have a long way to go towards corrupting both Malak and Revan. I will also be working heavily on _Lost Cause, _so expect that to come around after a while. But updates might not be as quick, since I am also working and I've got mid-terms just around the corner. Once more, I would like to thank you all for reading my stories and for the constructive criticism and support I've received. It helps me a lot. **


	26. Inner Universe

_Inner Universe _

"_I'm falling right now—catch me," she said softly. _

_The soft rustling of the trees that grew from the small pots beside them continued to fill the silence and remind them of the gentle breeze that sought to cool their bodies and their hearts, if only for a moment. All that stood in the moment was the both of them together again, as light beads of sweat glistened on their bodies. _

_He continued to shuffle about, watching her smile a wide grin that stretched ear-to-ear. He always enjoyed that smile. He kept her in his arms, safe and far away from falling thousands of stories to the black depths that lay beneath the balcony from which they stood._

_She appeared carefree—almost as if she were thousands of light-years away from the currents and what-have-you-nots of the Galaxy. It hardly mattered to her anyway—all that really mattered was that she was here, with him. "I love you," she whispered in his ear before she jumped._

_The light rustling of the gentle breeze filled his nostrils with that one flowery scent she managed to somehow retain. But she was long gone, and there he stood, enjoying the breeze that carried her scent. "Rena," he whispered, shortly before he felt himself thrust far away from the precarious perch he had been but a few, short moments ago._

* * *

Dante woke up, coughing as he fell off the cot he had rested on. His eyes snapped open as he realized he was not falling any further than the deck plating and the height of the cot would allow him. He rose, shaking his head, as he was clothed in his black breeches, gloves and tunic. His long coat hung at the edge of the bed, along with his lightsabers and modified Mandalorian heavy repeating blaster pistol he had taken from an old enemy from a long time ago. 

He sat at the edge of the cot, burying his face in both of his hands, rubbing his face slightly. His black hair, peppered with some signs of greying strands, appeared disheveled, as always. He heard the door hiss, followed by slow deliberate footsteps, as the door hissed closed.

The cool, almost _too_ calm feeling of her presence was just enough to startle anyone—but he hadn't been fazed in the slightest.

"You had a nightmare," she stated, rather than asked, in her soft-spoken manner.

"To be honest, I don't know what it was," he replied, slowly dragging his hands across his face as he looked up to see her looking down at him.

Her soft, almost golden skin seemed to flush ever so slightly. The velvet veil she wore over her head quivered slightly from the subtle breeze of the vessel's ventilation ducts. Her soft, full lips also seemed to quiver slightly. She sat down neatly, on the cot across from him, resting her hands on her lap as she gazed—though Dante couldn't be certain—quizzically towards him.

He could feel the soft, barely noticeable echoes of the Force around her. She felt something, but she appeared to be a master of her own emotions. He surmised as much, considering her life as something of a Sith Apprentice. Despite her past and the masterful control over her emotions, he felt no qualms about sitting comfortably in front of a former Sith. In fact, he felt nothing at all.

"So?" She asked, after a moment of comfortable silence between the two.

"So what?" He asked.

"What was the nightmare—or _premonition_?"

He exhaled deeply. "I-I don't want to talk about it, right now, if it's all the same to you."

She cocked her head. "You don't feel comfortable?"

"What I feel is irrelevant," he replied somewhat sourly. "I just don't want to talk about it for now."

"What if it is a premonition about the Jedi Order? Or perhaps about the Sith? You can't deny the perceptions of the Force so easily."

He looked at her intensely, gauging her reaction and hiding a smirk as he noticed her skin flush ever so lightly. After another moment, he looked at the ground and glanced back towards her. "You never told me why Theresa chose not to kill Atris."

"Three words: Quid pro quo," she replied.

Dante sighed audibly. _For a Miraluka—and an ex-Sith—she's something. She's almost as stubborn as Rin_, he mused, before he felt his heart sink a bit with the name. _Rin_. "Very well," he chuckled dryly, "but you go first."

She nodded politely. If it bothered her, she didn't show it.

_I'm glad I've never played Pazaak against her—I don't think I'd stand to win. I'm glad I haven't played Atton for that matter_, he thought. _I'd probably owe him more credits than I'd ever see in my lifetime_.

"Master Falcus chose not to kill her because she saw potential in Atris' redemption from the Dark Side. Atris had given in to her anger, becoming the very thing she swore to destroy. Atris had allowed her anger—her _rage_—to consume her and direct her for most of her life—unknowingly, of course."

Dante nodded slightly, curious as to why _exactly_ the fabled Exile had chosen an action such as redeeming the fallen Jedi Master.

"Atris was like a sister to her," Visas continued, "and Master Falcus was true to the Light by sparing Atris' life. Why Atris has begun this course of action or whether she still lives, for that matter, at the mercy of those holocrons remains to be seen. If she really is behind the things that have taken place—as you say—it is then Atris' fault in its entire entirety. She will be stopped."

He nodded. _So, Atris was like a sister to Theresa. I can now imagine how she must have felt when Theresa had entered the Council Chambers—and how Theresa was exiled for her beliefs in joining the war effort_. He began to grow in appreciation for the so-called Exile. More importantly, he began to wonder how Atton was coping with the Exile's disappearance. Atton struck the Jedi Knight as someone who would have followed Theresa to the bottomless pit of the Dark Side and back.

He knew that the love those two must have shared had to be something truly great and wondrous. The loss of that love—and that person—tended to pull the survivor back into the bottomless pit, consumed by its void; never to return. He remembered those few precious memories of Rin left in his heart; most were washed away during the darker months of his life, as he had found the cantinas to be of some comfort. He'd almost walked out of his life—and the Jedi Order—during that time. He could imagine that Atton must have certainly begun his journey towards the dark tunnel that tempted him, almost as if it were the notion of seeing a dead body that titillated the morbid and curious nature of a young child.

After a moment, Visas' soft, serene voice permeated through his thoughts. "Your turn, Dante," she said, smiling one of her 'rare' smiles—or so he was told.

He chuckled. "You're right." He cleared his throat as he said, "well, I found myself on the balcony of Rena's quarters, standing with her safely tucked in my arms. She seemed to be somewhat _older_." He coughed a bit. "She whispered to me that she loved me, shortly before she jumped."

Visas sat there silently, her hands had gripped the velvet cloth that was her gown. "I see," she whispered. "Who is this Rena?"

Slightly puzzled, Dante answered. "She's my Apprentice, of course. I thought I had told you this?"

She asked carefully, her hands chafing the fabric of her gown in between her fingers, "do you love her?"

"Of course—she's my Apprentice," he replied, thinking that would answer everything. He shook his head, clearing away his puzzlement. "Anyway, there is more--,"

Visas rose immediately. "It is quite all right," she replied quickly. "It was nothing more than a dream—not a premonition. I am sorry to have wasted your time." She turned and headed for the door.

"Wait," Dante said, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards him, as his other hand clasped her other wrist. "You don't understand."

"I understand everything perfectly. Let go of me," she warned icily.

Something in her tone—normally gentle—shook him to the core. He let go and he slowly said, "look, I think there is some misunderstanding. Rena is my Apprentice—she's like a daughter to me. Of course I love her—not _romantically_, but paternally."

"So you _don't_ have a romantic relationship with her?"

"No," he replied, amused that somehow she had become flustered because of his relationship with his Apprentice. _I just can't seem to understand you women at all_, he mused, wondering what the hubbub was all about.

"Oh," she said, regaining her composure quickly. _Great, how could I have misread that?_ She chided silently. "I seem to have misread your words, I apologize." She turned and began to leave, when Dante's voice spoke up, causing her to pause.

"It's quite all right. Would you like to hear what else I have to say?"

"Yes," she replied, after what seemed an eternity. "That would be…_nice_."

_I don't see what Atton is so worried about_, Dante thought as he replied, "let's grab something to eat first—I'm starved."

* * *

"_I won't let you fall," _he_ said softly. _

_The soft rustling of the trees that grew from the small pots beside them continued to fill the silence and remind them of the gentle breeze that sought to cool their bodies and their hearts, if only for a moment. All that stood in the moment was the both of them together again, as light beads of sweat glistened on their bodies. _

_She continued to shuffle about, watching him smile a wide grin that stretched ear-to-ear. She always enjoyed that smile. _

_He kept her in his arms, safe and far away from falling thousands of stories to the black depths that lay beneath the balcony from which they stood._

_He appeared truly happy—something she had never seen in such a long time. It hardly mattered to her anyway—all that really mattered was that he was here, with her. "I love you," he whispered in her ear before he let go of her and jumped._

_He was long gone, and there she stood, dumbfounded as he fell into the darkness, becoming nothing more as it consumed all his features. _

"_Dante," she whispered, shortly before she felt herself thrust far away from the precarious perch she had been but a few, short moments ago._

* * *

She snapped awake, panting and breathing deeply, as she looked side-to-side and muttered under her breath, as she attempted to determine where she was. Once more, Rena Naver was sitting up, in the night of her bed. 

"I have to stop dreaming like this," she groaned as she threw one hand on her face, wiping off the sweat that had matted her short, shoulder-length hair, covered her skin and soaked her sheets once again. It hardly mattered to her that this dream had been different from the ones she had about Revan and the Exile. She rose from the bed and threw off the sheets, grabbing an extra set, throwing them on the mattress and casting aside her sodden ones. _I'll deal with those in the morning_, she thought, as she went to lie down.

A few moments after, just as she was falling asleep, she heard a ring at her door and she rose. "Just a minute," she called out wearily as she threw on a pair of loose fitting pants.

As always, she kept her lightsaber close to her reach with the Force—at the edge of the table. She opened the door and was surprised with whom she saw. "Febe," she acknowledged, albeit with some surprise.

"Hello Master Naver," she said sleepily, the young child yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"You don't have to call me 'Master,' Febe," Rena replied. "I am a Padawan, just like you. Call me Rena."

"Are you all right?" The little girl asked, too tired to listen to the older woman's reprimand.

Rena looked taken aback. "Of course I'm all right," she said softly to the young girl.

"Are you sure? Because I felt ugly waves coming from you, while I was sleeping."

_This little one is perceptive and strong in the Force_, she thought bemusedly. She knelt down to look at the young girl. "You're very strong in the Force and very perceptive, Febe. You'll make a great Jedi when you grow up."

The little girl smiled. Her dark curly locks somehow seemed to fall on her puffy cheeks again.

"I'm quite all right," Rena replied.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," she smiled genuinely. Somehow, she had always been fond of the child, feeling some form of kindred connection with her.

As a toddler, Febe's parents were murdered and she was almost sold into slavery. An angry Frreral saw to it that Febe was spared that cruel fate. It was that same day he had torn the arms out of a bounty hunter, who had claimed that Frreral was his catch.

Now it was Rena's turn to ask the young girl. "Are you all right? What are you doing up?"

"I felt the ugly feeling and I couldn't sleep. I had nightmares."

Rena's expression grew baffled. "What nightmares?"

"I saw angry men in black walking towards us—one wore tubes from his eyes, and he was very angry with me. He said I shouldn't have seen him and that he has come to hurt everyone I love. He says I should go with him."

Slightly horrified, Rena asked carefully, "what did you say to the man?"

"I told him no," she replied, shaking her head from side-to-side.

"Good girl," Rena whispered.

"But," Febe said, catching the older Padawan off guard, "he said he will come for me soon."

Taking great care not to reveal any traces of fear, for she obviously realized the young girl had a premonition in the Force, Rena calmly said, "all right, Febe, go lie down and I'll talk to the Masters in the morning, ok?"

Febe nodded, but appeared apprehensive.

"What is it?"

"Can I sleep in your room?"

Rena smiled and replied, "of course." She guided the child in and put her to lie down on her bed, as the child covered up and soon after went to sleep. Rena lay beside the small, resting child, her thoughts turned towards a new chain of thoughts, as she quickly forgot her nightmares. _Febe unwittingly had a conversation with a Sith—someone who's immensely powerful and who tried to tell her to join the Dark Side. If she could feel the presence of that Sith at this age, then there is no telling how powerful she may grow up to become. What's more, the Council has to hear about this. _She noticed the night sky slowly changed its shade to indigo. _I'll let the Council know of this in the morning_, she reasoned, as she wrapped one arm over the small girl, who in turn nestled up towards Rena, and closed her eyes.

_

* * *

He tensed his left arm and flexed his fingers, as he watched the movements of the black-cased appendage manoeuvre to and fro. The slight whir of the mechanisms of the cybernetic prosthetic saddened him slightly as he realized his real__ arm was gone. Nothing but phantom pain raced across the black encased shell of his arm. _ real 

_The prosthetic arm ran up to where his triceps began and where the rest of his arm met the socket. It was black and carried the generic shape of an arm, though at the size of a well-toned arm. Of course, the cybernetic arm was composed of very light—almost weightless—metal. It also seemed to be finely detailed and it was obvious that the arm was roughly the thickness and size of his right arm—the more dominant arm. _

_He moved his fingers again, testing out the control he had over the metallic extremities. He grunted as he rose, staring at himself in the mirror in front of him. He wore his tattered and torn robes—new ones would have to be acquired—as the intensity of his oceanic blue eyes had somehow diminished. _When will this war end?_ He thought to himself._ Bastila, I will come home to you. I know you can still feel me—even if the bond is weak. I love you and I will end this threat soon, just stay strong, my Love.

_He sighed as his eyes gazed over his rough, worn features. His face was still blotchy with the stains of warfare, his goatee was still neatly trimmed and his hair appeared tousled. He heard the door his and he knew who it was, as he continued to look at his black arm that somehow seemed to fit his form. _

"_How are you?" She asked him, worry was thick in her voice._

"_Well, aside from a few dirty clothes, a few scratches, a new arm," he said, moving the appendage about, "I'd say I am pretty damn fine. Nothing a bath can't handle," he chuckled dryly. _

_She sighed. "I am sorry it has come to this, Revan."_

_He turned about and saw the worry in her eyes and stance. He sighed. "I'm fine, Theresa—really, I am." His eyes shifted towards the ground. "It's just that having my arm blown off and having this _thing_ in its place, isn't what I'd exactly call feeling a whole lot better."_

"_War has its price," she reminded him softly._

"_I know—I just thought I had paid the price a long time ago." He looked up at her, knowing full well that they both felt the same way. "I just didn't expect I'd have to pay the piper again. I figured I'd paid all my dues and thensome with everything I've done." He moved his new arm, whirring ever so faintly, but loud enough for him to hear it now and always, as it would remain there for the rest of his life. "Guess I'll just have to live with it."_


	27. Mysterious Ways

_Mysterious Ways _

He continued to sit comfortably in the cockpit—or as comfortable as he could get. Atton never enjoyed piloting bulky, slow freighters with a proverbial bull's eye painted on its hull. In fact, Atton found himself disliking piloting anything as of late.

Dark rings had formed under his eyes, as a thin red line ran across his lower eyelids. His face was paler and covered in an abnormal amount of stubble that had formed on his face over the past few weeks. Somehow, it painted a different picture of the light-hearted, not-so-intoxicated scoundrel who had always maintained a clean-shaven face. With Theresa gone gallivanting across the Galaxy, on a whimsical and fool-hardy mission to stop an army of Sith, Atton was left to his own devices, crushed and mortified with thoughts of what might be happening to her.

There was hardly a moment that did not passed by when his thoughts weren't turned to her. _Theresa_, he thought, trying to reawaken the bond he had felt closing in on him, _where are you?_ Before he could go further, the familiar presence of Visas planked herself on the co-pilot's chair beside him.

"How long do we have until we reach the planet?" She asked, once more in a soft-spoken manner.

"We'll reach the planet in 3 standard hours," he answered, as he felt a soft shiver in the Force. _She wants to say something_.

"Good," she said, turning and facing the blue swirls of hyperspace that surrounded the complete darkness, which shrouded the end of the hyper-tunnel ahead of them.

After another moment of uncomfortable silence, Atton cleared his throat. "So what is it you want to say?" He finally asked.

"Huh?" She replied, somewhat startled at Atton's forwardness.

"You have something on your mind—is it another lesson about Theresa?" He asked, before he looked at her, grinning lopsidedly. "Or is it about the troubling love life between you and the new guy?"

Her face was flushed with mild embarrassment. "We are not lovers, Atton—merely colleagues who share a similar passion and understanding with the Force."

"Uh huh," he replied, unconvinced. "You have a thing for him."

"Jedi do not have _things_, Atton," she reminded him.

"So what do you call the relationship I had—I _have_—with Theresa?" The sound of her name stirred up the feeling of his body tingling from the extremities towards his heart. _Theresa_.

"That was a relationship—and you aren't exactly a Jedi," she relied brusquely.

"Whoa," he chuckled, "no need to get defensive." He kept his grin planted on his face as he replied, "and last I checked, you were supposed to complete my training, as per our fearless leader's orders."

"It doesn't help that you chose to run off in search of her—she left for reasons that we cannot comprehend, but must respect nonetheless."

"Right, and I'm a shaved wookiee," he replied sourly. "Look," he said, his tone and expression softening, "So what exactly was on your mind, Princess?"

Ignoring the nickname, Visas merely replied, "that is none of your business."

He scoffed, "oh come on, I'm trying to offer you free advice here."

"I'd rather go to the droids for advice than you."

He sighed. If she weren't going to tell him, then she'd have left a long time ago. As it stood, he needed her to put a challenge in front of him—as long as it was something that would keep him busy and keep his mind off of Theresa. He still couldn't understand why she had left—on some fool's errand to save the former Dark Lord of the Sith who probably fell to the Dark Side once more. He couldn't bear the thought of being without her—it was a miracle he had managed to go this long without her as it were. Cantinas had provided him the opportunity to bury his thoughts, his mind and more importantly, his _sorrows_, for a while—if only for a short time.

_I sure hope that Visas' loverboy certainly knows what he is doing. The only reason I'm still here, piloting this heap and ready to complete my training, is because when he goes in search of her, I'll be able to come with him. _He sighed once more, forgetting his interest in Visas' trouble, as he remembered his own. _Hang on, Babe, I'll come and get you_. He noticed the swirl of hyperspace again. _Soon, I hope_.

"You're right," Visas said, after a few moments. "He will help you—and I must confess that I have never felt the way I do when I am around him."

Atton grinned. "Welcome to a whole new world, Visas."

* * *

Dante strode on to the ramp after they had found a beam that the Jedi Knight could land on safely—or as safe as one could be, several thousand feet in the air. He turned around and noticed Visas standing off to the side, as Atton raced down the ramp.

"Tell me why we're on Corellia again?" He rasped over the wind that howled outside.

"To have a discussion with the Director of Republic Intelligence," Dante replied evenly, his coat billowing about. He wouldn't take them with him—he needed them in case he ran into any trouble he couldn't get out of.

"You're not going to do something stupid, are you?" Atton asked.

Dante smiled, shaking his head. "No, I am just going to go have some tea and chat with the Director. You're there just in case anything gets too hot for me to handle."

"You sure you don't want us to come along?" He asked cautiously.

"You and Visas would do better on the ship—keep it primed and ready to snatch me when I give the signal."

"And what's the signal, 'oh Fearless One?'"

"You'll know it when you see it," Dante replied, his eyes glancing towards Visas. "Make sure he doesn't do something like fly out of here when I need you guys the most."

"Rest assured that we will be waiting for you," she replied. "May the Force be with you."

"You too," Dante muttered as he turned and leapt off the ramp towards the beam, landing safely.

"I hope your loverboy doesn't do something stupid," Atton replied.

"He'll be fine," Visas said. Her conversation with Atton in the cockpit had gone better than expected.

"Come on," Atton said after a moment, "you can help me hone my skills while we wait for him."

Dante watched as the vessel rose and moved away to join the countless other vehicles that moved about. "It's been so long since I have been here," he muttered. _This is where I met Rena—and saved her from a life as a slave_. He looked about and he steadied himself as he ignited his sapphire lightsaber, tearing through the transparisteel glass. _Well, I better go and announce myself_, he mused as he passed through the hole in the glass and noticed a clear hallway, adorned in dark, metallic plating and white walls. _This is going to take a while_.

* * *

Lotus walked towards her long, sleek skiffer. As she entered the vessel, she noticed a channel beeping. Closing the door, she sat down and opened the channel. "Yes?"

"_Ah, Lotus Xa_," a green-skinned Neimoidian senator said.

"Do you have what I requested, Senator?"

"_Of course,_" he replied. "_Apparently, the Jedi you look for—this Dante Ravenmoon—has an Apprentice. Her name is Rena Naver—and she seems linked to the Corellia project._"

"Naver?" Lotus grinned. _So, she has finally showed herself_. "Well done, Senator Greco," she replied. "I shall be en route to Coruscant—and you shall have your payment when I arrive."

"_Very good, Mistress_," Greco replied, before his face winked out.

_Fool_, she looked up and began to think about how best to get to Coruscant. She noticed Horn and Torn moving in perfect unison towards a vessel of their own. _Maybe I can use them for this_, she thought as she jumped out of her chair and left the vessel, racing towards them.

The pair hardly noticed her until she called out to them and caused them to pause.

"Horn, Torn—perfect. What does Mistress Traya require of you?"

Horn looked at his brother, who in turn chose to speak.

"She has asked us to relieve her of the Senators that were responsible for creating us."

Lotus looked at both of them and decided to ask, "how would you feel about eliminating Tamar?"

"If the Mistress permits it, it shall be done."

"She has," the woman said stiffly.

"How can that be? She told us personally," Horn replied.

"She told me via comlink," Lotus quipped. "Regardless, she would like me to go to Coruscant and relieve the both of you of that favour, while you go to Corellia and eliminate Director Gran'gerst and the Jedi Knight he is in league with."

"He is in league with the Jedi?" Torn inquired.

"Yes—which is why she sent me to deal with them."

"So why has she changed her decision?"

Lotus sighed inwardly. _I better do something quickly if it means getting them to go along with this._ "She feels my skills are lacking where yours are vastly superior. Eliminate the Bothan and the Jedi."

They looked at each other and nodded. "Very well," Torn replied.

Lotus smiled inwardly. _Good, I have some other things that need to be carried out_, she thought. Jumping back into her vessel, she gunned the engines, leaving at a distance comfortable enough to make the jump to lightspeed.

* * *

They had burst through, walking through the beacon of light as a river of black. Their crimson lightsabers blocked the defences of the Jedi Temple, as several fell from the relentless onslaught of the energy weapons that held it together.

They spread through the place, led by Deus, who had torn away from the group, hunting for some Jedi.

A group of Dark Jedi waltzed towards the Jedi Council chambers, only to stop in front of the hallway that branched towards the chambers and the dormitories.

"Welcome to the Jedi Temple—I hope your visit here will be short," Ash said, standing in the center of the 6 Jedi Masters. To his right stood Tarn, with his emerald lightsaber ignited. To Ash's left stood Jolee, his emerald blade flared. To Tarn's right stood Frreral with his golden lightsaber and to Jolee's left stood Len and then Sneed, with their emerald blades.

The Dark Jedi responded by charging at the Jedi Masters.

The Jedi Masters retaliated by raising their hands at the same time and dropping their hands rapidly, crushing the Dark Jedi under a fallen beam.

"That was fun," Jolee mumbled.

"Let's go!" Len said, as they moved about, charging towards the other Dark Jedi that had noticed the arrival of the Masters.

Suddenly, a halting voice called out. "This party is over!"

Several Dark Jedi noticed the presence of a dark skinned man, who was bald and wielded a pulsating violet blade.

Before anyone could reply, Cyrin Jace leapt at the trio who stood between him and the other Masters.

* * *

The small, cloaked figure trudged up the stairs, and towards the melted entrance. An audible sigh escaped his lips as he lowered his head in shame. _I am too late_.

Suddenly his ears perked up as he heard the clashing of lightsabers and the screams of several fallen Dark Jedi. _Not late! _He raced through the entrance and spotted four Dark Jedi who noticed him.

They ignited their crimson lightsabers. "Fight us, half-pint!" One of them sneered, as the others laughed.

"Size matters not," the figure replied, as he removed his hood and revealed the diminutive, green-skinned, elfin Jedi Master Vandar Tokare. He ignited his small emerald lightsaber. "As long as the Force, have I!"

The group of four charged at the small Master, who replied by taking up a warcry as he leapt on to a pillar beside him and jumped out towards the Dark Jedi, slashing one across the chest and sending the remaining three back with the outward extension of his small three-fingered hand.

The three spaced out as they slashed upward and across, missing the tiny figure by mere moments and clashing with a blur of green.

Vandar jumped into a butterfly attack, evading the down swooping slash of a crimson blade, as he landed on the ground adjacent to the Dark Jedi attacking him, and rotated in a 180-degree spin, lopping off the Dark Jedi's hand and thrusting the blade into the man's chest.

Attempting to seize the moment, another Dark Jedi brought his lightsaber down on the diminutive humanoid, cutting a swath of air where Vandar had been but moments before. He turned around and noticed that the Master had jumped off a beam, towards him. Before he could react, a hot searing pain had found its way into his chest and he collapsed.

Vandar retrieved his blade and angled it upright, deftly blocking a diagonally downward slash. Smacking the blade away, he summoned the Force about him and jumped onto a pillar, caroming towards another one, narrowly missing the crimson streaks that tried to strike at him. Growling, the centuries' old Master flipped over the Dark Jedi and extended his hand, sending a wave of the Force crushing down on his opponent, crushing his life from him in an instant.

The Dark Jedi only groaned as his last breath left him, leaving his crumpled form on the cratered ground where the Force wave had struck.

Vandar landed safely and looked about. "Judge me by my size, do you?" The Master looked around and began to walk away. "Out of exile I am—save the others, I must."

* * *

**Author's Notes: All right, that probably wasn't a whole lot to take in at one time. Since I've practically finished _Catharsis_, expect the updates to be coming to roughly 2-3 times a week or until I run out of chapters or get to the Epilogue. The final installment will be coming along shortly, but as I mentioned beforehand, I will be doing more work on _Rise of Darth Revan_ and _Lost Cause_. Also be on the lookout for a few one-shots that will come along, thanks to Trillian4210's Forums. **


	28. Darkness Falls

_Darkness Falls _

Dante withdrew his blaster pistol, walking with relative ease throughout the corridors of the facility. From what he gathered in the computer terminal he has sliced earlier, there was more activity in the base of the structure than the top; however, he knew that Tamar was resting comfortably at the top suite of the building. For some strange reason, the Director enjoyed resting in a place that was shrouded by the power of the Dark Side.

Though he felt hardly any presences throughout the level—which conveniently held the Director's personal office—the Jedi Knight tread cautiously, as he felt the minute energy fluxes of droids. He felt the tapping of light feet approaching his direction, forcing him to hide behind a stack of containers near a column, providing the Jedi cover as he noticed a pair of droids walk past him. The level was filled with several droids—all of them _Sith_ bipedal wardroids, cradling standard blaster rifles in their scrawny arms.

_There's more to this than what meets the eye_, he thought bitterly. He could feel the raw power of the Dark Side swirling around the building, as its tendrils writhed and ensnared other people and buildings around it, consuming the hearts, desires and inevitably the people who inhabited those buildings. He suppressed a shudder, as he thought about becoming one of the few to witness the web of the Dark Side grow, inviting more of its prey to become entangled as it fed on every precious life.

_To think, my brother had succumbed to this_, he thought ruefully, recalling that fateful encounter he had with his older brother Xavier, who had fallen to the Dark Side and became Darth Seth after killing his twin, Nathaniel. It was Dante who killed Xavier in the final moments of finding the key to unlocking the Unifying Force.

Even now, as his heart sunk a bit for his deceased brothers, he felt that the Force had taken him to a crossroads with a barrier—one where the Unifying Force was unable to extend its grasp and unite those who had once fallen. Not a single fallen Jedi had been redeemed, and what's more, those who followed the Unifying Force had slowly begun to take comfort in the use of the dark powers their darker brethren used. The tenets of the Jedi Order had become twisted, and somehow everything they had begun to strive for had now collapsed. Dante grew frustrated, as he balled his hands into fists, tightening the grip on his pistol.

_Why must we fail now? The Unifying Force was going to bridge the gulf between the Sith and Jedi! Why have we failed? Is there some hidden meaning to the Unifying Force? Is there some greater meaning that we are not meant to understand until later? _

He clenched his teeth in his frustration, taking some comfort and solace in that he would soon destroy everything in this building. Someway, _somehow_, Dante would eliminate the Sith once and for all, and then he would be unstoppable.

_Unstoppable_. Dante paused, and relaxed from tensing himself. He felt the immense pressure and weight of the Dark Side around him, urging him to rekindle those flames. Even now, he could feel the soft temptations to kill the Bothan Intelligence Director with his bare hands.

_No_, he reasoned, easing his mind as he called upon old Jedi techniques to ebb his anger. _How could I have allowed myself to become duped? This place is full of the Dark Side—I cannot trust my own thoughts_. He sighed, as the footsteps became mere whispers to him. _I need to get this over with_. He rose and walked towards the wall, leaning his head out to peek at both sides to see if he was clear.

Confident, he began to walk down the same path the droids had presumably gone. He needed to gain cold, hard evidence of what the Intelligence Director was doing. He felt the presences of thousands of other people—the familiar presences of _someone _he knew, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Shaking off the feeling, he looked at the schematics of the structure on his small datapad, attempting to determine the best location of a systems console terminal.

_There_, he determined, as he pinpointed a location that he felt would keep him relatively hidden. _I can only assume the Dark taint I've kept within myself for so long has now become irrevocable_, he thought sadly as he trudged along the corridors, keeping close to the walls. Stretching out with the Force, he felt the subtle gyrations of energy throughout the building. _More droids_, he thought, as he holstered his blaster and produced the lightsaber of his lost love.

He felt his hands gripping the cylinder tightly, as he recalled Rin's death. _No_, he steeled himself, _I _won't_ live through it again! I refuse to!_ Any and all attempts to keep himself strong suddenly dissolved as he remembered the crimson lightsaber driving into her chest, as she fell to the ground, left to die as the assassin, Lotus Xa, tried to lure him over. As much as he loathed to admit it, she nearly succeeded—but not in the way she wanted. She wanted _him_—the only Jedi to ever best her.

He felt his hands tremble and tears swell in his eyes, as that familiar prickle in his hands, feet, elbows and knees continued to drive itself through his body.

The footsteps of several wardroids were approaching closer to where he was.

_She's dead, Dante. You killed her_, the voice replied. It was the twisted, spiteful and somber voice of the Rin who continued to haunt him.

"Rin," he mouthed, as he closed his eyes tightly. He tried to ignore the voice. His hands continued to tremble violently, as he felt her death, her last words, and the scent of her burnt flesh.

Several more footsteps had joined—all of whom were the Sith wardroids.

_She will never be there again. You'll never listen to her sweet voice, her laughter and you will never join her again. You should never have allowed yourself to feel for her. You're responsible for her death._

"Rin" he whispered, as he gritted his teeth and felt his arms tense. The voice was making sense and angering him even more.

The clanking of the droid feet had stopped in front of the adjoining corridor.

_It's over, Dante. Lotus won: Rin is dead, the Dark Side has you, why don't you just admit it? She's dead all because you stopped and gaped as Lotus drove her blade into Rin's chest. It's your entire fault she's dead! And now they will take Rena. Rena will die by the Sith—or worse, she'll join them!_

"No!" He growled as his hands tightened around the blade, followed by a _snap-hiss_, as a blue shaft of energy flared to life. _No!_ He screamed in his mind as he blindly leapt out of the hallway, spinning his blade all around him, slicing the plethora of droids that faced him into halves.

"I won't lose her!" He screamed as the voice continued to goad him on.

_Strike! They're all going to kill her Dante! Save her! Save her like you couldn't save _me.

The Jedi Knight thrust his blade into the chest of one wardroid, as he spun about, his lightsaber a streak of blue as it decapitated another and deflected a blaster bolt that flew into another.

He continued to slash at them, tearing them to pieces as he watched them crumble under his strength.

_Now nothing will ever stop you, Dante. Take the power you know you have rejected. Take it and you can go forth and protect Rena!_

He arced his lightsaber upwards and sliced one of the last remaining droids in half—along with its blaster rifle.

Dante spun about, bringing his lightsaber on a downward slash to his left. Extending one hand, he sent the last droid into the wall, before it landed on the ground, clattering in pieces.

He peered about the corridors, noticing that nothing else lived, save for him.

_Take the power, Dante. Use it to save Rena and finally eliminate the Sith once and for all!_

He hadn't even broken a sweat as he surveyed the carnage he had single-handedly wrought. He deactivated his lightsaber and looked at the hilt. "There is no such thing as luck, only skill," his whispered as he read the inscription on the lightsaber. He sighed wearily. "I'm sorry, Rin. I am not as strong as you think. But I won't give in," he promised.

_But what about Rena?_ The darker Rin asked him.

"I will protect her with my life, but you are nothing more than a nightmare that should have been put to rest a long time ago."

_I shall always be a part of you, Dante_, the voice replied. _We are one—intertwined at the heart and we shall forever be together._

"Perhaps," he replied, "but in time, you'll fade."

Ignoring any more conversations with his mind, Dante clipped the lightsaber to his belt and strode to the system terminal at an empty secretary's desk. He tapped several keys and inserted one of the last few spikes he had left.

He tapped a few more keys, cycling through commands as he found data entries. He removed his datapad and cycled through it. _Nothing like unrestricted access via a computer spike_, he thought. As he cycled through the data entries, he found something of notable promise.

_Operation: Guardian Shield:_

_The Promised Ones._

_Runaway._

_Forefather._

He cycled through them. _What is this?_ He looked around; ensuring no one else was around and then copied them to his datapad. He steeled himself against the Dark Side, the voice and whatever else he would encounter, as he moved towards the one entitled 'Forefather.'

* * *

Sebastian Marseilles felt the death of his Master and couldn't help but smile, as he moved silently throughout the hallways. _So, old man, you finally met your death. Good riddance, you were nothing more than a thorn in my side_. As much as he was glad at the loss of his Master, he also felt a small hole in his heart, saddened that Dietrich Cain had come to a inglorious end. 

What's more, he was saddened he didn't have the opportunity to kill his Master.

The sounds of lightsabers clashing and the grunts and screams of those who died woke him from his trance. _Seems I must keep my focus on the present—lest I come to the same fate as my Master_.

Sebastian kept to the walls, racing through the dormitories. _There is no doubt that Deus and his cronies will come through here—slaughtering the miserable miscreants and thensome. _He continued to walk, but heard a soft beeping tone and he gasped, looking about, as one hand went to his pocket.

_Bloody woman, of all times…_ He sighed. He ducked behind a statue of a Jedi Knight, as he opened the channel to his comlink. "Yes?" He asked, irate.

"_Sebastian, I'm glad you're there,_" her voice replied, somewhat sourly.

"Lotus, I don't have time for this—we've already begun the siege on the Jedi Temple!"

"_You have?_"

He heard what could have been curses she muttered under her breath. It caused him to smile momentarily before he asked, "what is it that you want?"

"_I need you to look for a Jedi—her name is Rena Naver._"

"What's so important about her?"

"_She's someone I need—and I need her _alive"

This caused the man to pout. "What's the matter? Afraid I'll kill her, Sweetie?"

She growled. _"You better not. Especially since I am on my way to get her._"

He paled, thankful that she could only hear his voice in the comlink. "You're coming here?"

"_Of course. Now find her and I'll reward you_," she replied, before her tone became teasing. "_Handsomely, of course._"

"Of course," he muttered, his mind racing with thoughts of Lotus surrendering herself to him.

"_Good,_" she replied formally, "_now get going—I'll be landing in a handful of minutes._"

He sighed as he left to go find his new quarry. He had been more interested in torturing, mutilating and eventually killing the Younglings, but he figured he would have his fun with this _Rena_. After all, Lotus merely said she wanted the girl alive; she said nothing about keeping the girl in good condition.

As he continued to look at the doors, looking for some clue as to who was this Rena, he stopped as a door hissed open behind him, and closed suddenly. He turned around and faced a young woman, no more than 18 years old, with short raven black hair to her shoulders, oceanic blue eyes and a dark look on her face.

She was clad in a loose fitting white tunic and breeches, with her brown boots. In her hand, she held her lightsaber, which flared to life, revealing a fiery emerald that painted green light around her and the man before her.

"Rena Naver?" Sebastian asked, somewhat unnerved at her strength in the Force.

"Yes," she replied. "And you are?"

He smiled darkly. "Sebastian Marseilles. I've so wanted to meet you, and now that I have, I think it is time we get acquainted." He revealed a longer lightsaber hilt as he ignited both ends of the lightsaber, revealing cruel crimson shafts of energy. He charged towards her, with nothing but sheer malice towards the Jedi.

Rena met his charge head-on, moving with swift passion.

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, this is the second one of the week--I'll be doing my mid-term by the time you all have finished reading this, I gather. Anyway, I combed through this and hopefully I managed to pull out the minor errors. I hope you enjoy this, there's much more on the way. My Word Document (which has the entire story) tells me that this is merely the halfway point. So...we've finally made it. Coming up, you will get to find out the mysterious identity of Deus, Rena and all those other folks. And I guarantee you...there will be much more interesting things that will come their way...really...what you don't believe me? **


	29. Dark Hour

_Dark Hour_

Cyrin ducked as a lightsaber slashed for his neck, seeking to decapitate him. He thrust out with his violet blade, carving a hole through the Dark Jedi's chest, where his heart had once been. As he rose, he noticed a group of Sith moving towards the dormitories—where the Younglings and Padawans were.

Extending a hand, Ash sent two Dark Jedi flying away and crashing into the pillars, as Vandar slash across their chests.

"At this rate, we might as well be dead," Tarn muttered, standing back to back with his former Master.

"Calm yourself, Tarn," Ash replied, breathing heavily. "You have far much longer than I to live."

"So you say," the younger man muttered.

Ash feared the young man was right—at the rate they were going, and the fact that the Dark Jedi outnumbered them 4 to 1, it would only be a matter of time until someone fell.

"Ash, they're moving towards the dormitories!" Cyrin called out, as he leapt over one of the Dark Jedi, slashing the Dark Jedi's back, while he spun about and deflected two lightsabers aimed for his stomach.

"Let's go," Ash said, as he and Tarn moved away from the battle the other companions were involved in.

Frreral let out a growl as he nimbly deflected a lightsaber aimed for his head. With his free hand, he slammed the Dark Jedi in the face and sent him sprawling back. Rotating his grip on his golden blade, Frreral swung his blade in a figure eight, sending two other Dark Jedi back.

They lost their grips on their lightsaber, as the wookiee Jedi sent their blades angling away.

Seizing the moment, Frreral brought his blade to quickly slash to the right and to the left, lopping off the heads of his opponents. _Where's Dante when you need him?_ He thought, looking about as he walked towards the other Jedi who were fighting, taking time to swing his lightsaber onto the chest of the Dark Jedi he had sent to the ground with one of his wookiee fists.

* * *

Ash Merrick and Tarn Seethes raced across the corridors, hoping to beat the Dark Jedi to the Younglings.

_I can't imagine what will happen to the Younglings if the Sith get their hands on them_, Ash thought ruefully.

As the pair raced in silence, they spotted five crumpled forms, and two other Jedi that stood there. One of them had the familiar T-shaped head of an ithorian.

"Sneed! Len!" Tarn called out as they noticed the crumpled forms were Dark Jedi and not children. Tarn exhaled in relief.

"There's more," Len said softly, his tone saddened. "And they're not Dark Jedi."

Ash looked at the nautolan. "Who else?"

"When we arrived, they had killed a few of the Younglings—and we tried to stop them," Sneed tried to explain, his voice cracking.

"Where are the others?" Tarn asked softly, as he rested a hand on Sneed's shoulder.

"They're safe—we put them in a room, but Rena and Febe are missing," Len answered.

"We'll have to find them later. For now, we need to--," Tarn was cut off as a figure approached them.

The figure was clad all in black, sporting specially grafted Bothan goggles and carried what appeared to be a rebreather. His blood red lightsaber thrummed, as he stared at the four Jedi before him. This was what Deus had been waiting for all of his artificial life.

"You," Len said, as he and Sneed ignited their lightsabers. The four Jedi stood abreast of one another, their emerald lightsabers glowing as they prepared themselves for the onslaught of this powerful Sith.

"I've been waiting for this for so long," the heavily synthesized voice replied. "Now I will be the one honoured with killing all of you—in one last stroke." He let out what would be construed as laughter, as he raced towards them.

The Jedi brought their lightsabers up and joined in the charge.

Deus spun about, forcing the four Jedi to block, as he leapt towards the ithorian Jedi, running him through and jumping over the screaming carcass.

Ash felt Sneed's life wither away, and realized that the figure they were fighting had been toying with them during the fight in the Senate.

Tarn brought his lightsaber over his head, blocking the slash Deus made for him.

Len took the lapse in Deus' judgment and thrust out, only to be sent back with a shove from the Force.

Deus spun about and slashed horizontally, forcing Ash to block, while Tarn swung his lightsaber over his head, bearing down on the crimson lightsaber that somehow managed to block Deus' head.

Growling, Len extended one foot and shoved Deus back. The Masters stood side by side once more, as they prepared themselves for Deus' relentless assault.

Deus readied himself and leapt towards them, swinging his lightsaber in horizontal and vertical slashes that the Jedi Masters were forced to deflect against, as the Sith continued his attacks.

Len blocked another swipe to his face, as he thrust out his lightsaber, only to be deflected and guided away from the fight by the Sith's crimson lightsaber.

Tarn growled in frustration as he was continually pushed back along with Ash.

Ash angled his lightsaber, attempting to guide Deus' lightsaber away, as he landed a kick to the Dark Jedi's stomach.

Len, behind the Sith, seized the lapse, as he continued his onslaught, aware that Deus had extended a hand and sent his companions flying towards a fallen beam.

Deus focused his attacks on the nautolan, aware that this one was exceptionally skilled in lightsaber combat. He lunged, feigning an opening.

Taking the opening, Len found his lightsaber locked with the taller and much more muscular Dark Jedi.

Deus grinned underneath his mask, as his lightsaber was locked in an upright manner, to Len's horizontal blade. He shoved his blade against the weaker Jedi, and sent the nautolan moving back.

Len recovered quickly, and growling with his own anger, he came in downward swipes, slashes as he deflected and attempted to parry off each strike Deus made with his own.

Both Jedi were moving with rapid speed, as the Force swirled around them, honing and augmenting each one's abilities, as their lightsaber moved in blurs of crimson and emerald.

And in a blur, it was over, as they fought in figure eight patterns, where the crimson blade pierced through the emerald defence.

Orange sparks fluttered from Len's right elbow, causing him to scream in pain as his arm flew away, carrying the lightsaber in its grip.

Deus grinned underneath his mask as he spun about, extending his lightsaber as he decapitated the nautolan.

* * *

Cyrin felt the death of Len and gritted his teeth, as he felt the loss of one of his best friends. In the overhead lightsaber lock with one of the Dark Jedi, he screamed fierily as he brought both blades bearing down on the poor Dark Jedi. The lightsabers decapitated the Dark Jedi, as well as cleave the head in half.

Strafing away from the move, Cyrin looked at the trio of Dark Jedi that rushed to face him. Tired and injured, the Jedi poised himself as he watched the trio close the gap between them. _This is it_, he thought, with closed eyes. _I will be joining you soon, my friends—but I will give them one last fight to remember me by_. He opened his eyes and saw the Dark Jedi raising their blades to meet him.

He felt the surge of adrenaline course through his veins as he met them blade for blade, spinning between them, as he smacked one crimson blade away and sliced one Dark Jedi in half, the torso falling before the legs. He grunted as he felt one of the Dark Jedi's fists land a blow to his face.

Parrying, both Dark Jedi coordinated their efforts as they whirled around him, slashing across him, and over his head, searching for weak points in the Jedi Master's admirable defence.

Cyrin crouched and whirled his lightsaber, severing the legs of one enemy, as he rolled away from the other crimson lightsaber that accidentally sliced its comrade in half.

The Dark Jedi recovered quickly, block the violet blade that came for her head, then for her stomach and her legs. She was slowly being pushed back, as the dark skinned Jedi Master continued to relentlessly push her back.

Cyrin slashed left and right, shifting his grip on the lightsaber into backhand strikes. He continued sending the Dark Jedi back, as he brought his lightsaber of his head and swung down with all of his might.

She screamed as she just barely managed to bring her lightsaber up in a horizontal block, as she saw the piping red hot energy come within an inch of her eyes.

Cyrin continued to push his weight into it, as he saw her struggling to prevent it from burning her head away. He leapt back, causing her to stumble as he raced towards her again, slamming his lightsaber against hers, as he swung in a wide figure eight pattern, and he spun about, pivoting his weight as he kicked her across the face, sending her back.

She crashed to the ground and rolled away, putting weight on her back as she sprung up, face first into the lightsaber that sent her head rolling away.

Cyrin looked around and noticed the Dark Jedi were reduced in number, which surprised him. He saw Frreral dueling against two other Dark Jedi, while Vandar raced across the walls, sending waves of the Force crushing down his opponents.

He turned to face Jolee, who continued to deftly parry each strike that came his way. He was outnumbered, and Cyrin could feel the Force slowly ebbing from his former Master.

He began to move towards the older man, as he felt subtle waves of the Force, which told him to duck. As he did so—dropping his lightsaber in the process—, he noticed crimson bolts slamming into the group of Dark Jedi that stood there. Cyrin turned and noticed platoons of Republic Soldiers, all heavily armed, as they entered the Temple, led by Forn Dodonna, Bastila Shan and Dustil Onasi.

Bastila leapt over the Jedi Master and embedded her golden double-edged lightsaber into the chest of a hapless Dark Jedi, as the rest charged to face the Republic soldiers.

Dustil moved towards Cyrin, his blue blade thrumming, as he extended a hand to the Master who lay on the ground. "Master Jace," he said, "I am Dustil Onasi."

Cyrin took the young man's hand, and noticed the dark haired man looked very much like one Admiral Carth Onasi. "You're Carth's son, aren't you?" It was all he could manage, as he saw the others engaging against the Dark Jedi.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "I believe we have an enemy to stop," he said, "so if you'll excuse me, Master." He raced towards the Dark Jedi, who were fighting against his own Master and Jolee.

Cyrin looked for his lightsaber on the ground, commanding it to his hand as he felt its warm grip. He ignited the blade and looked at Forn, who ordered the soldiers to move towards strategic positions, as they poured seemingly limitless amounts of crimson bolts towards the Dark Jedi. His heart warmed as he saw her, and then he moved towards the corridors—where Ash and Tarn were. He could only hope he wasn't too late.


	30. Revelations

_Revelations _

Dante read through the report, as he saw a familiar face present itself on the screen. It was of a young male, his blue eyes were bright, and he had short, spiky raven hair. "No," Dante whispered, as he realized who the original host was. The face was much younger, a bit more exuberant, and it was obviously an outdated image of the person.

_Revan_.

The person who was the result of the creation of the Alpha assassins, the Beta warrior and the seemingly rakghoul mutants was Revan. The forefather of all the darkness that these things were made out to be.

Dante sighed and lowered his gaze as he read more. The runaways consisted of four figures. 3 mutants and one _twin_. As he read who the twin was, he felt a coldness run through his body, as his world came crashing down on him. The twin was a person close to him—someone who had inherited every aspect of the former Dark Lord of the Sith, save in gender. The runaway, was in fact, Rena Naver.

"Rena," he whispered. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" He remembered that day—he found her on Corellia, running for her life from a group of so-called slavers. He cut them down, he protected her, and took it upon himself to train her. She was like a daughter to him. He could feel his anger rising in him at the potential betrayal. His hands gripped the console, as he fought hard to control himself.

_The Dark Side surrounds the building—reaching out towards others and ensnare them in its web. _

He sighed, knowing that somehow, she might have been trying to tell him all this time. _Rena_, he thought, _I must protect you now, more than ever_. He downloaded the file and deleted everything in the system's mainframe about Revan. But before he could do that, he had one last thing to open. _The Promised Ones_. What he saw caused him to grow in rage—he saw the deaths of Gideon, the escape of Toll, the slaughtering of the other failed Revan experiments. But most of all, he saw the name of those who had commissioned this project. _The Senators of all the worlds that had come to no immediate harm during the Jedi Civil War and the Mandalorian Wars. Republic Intelligence Director Tamar Gran'gerst, General Erik Scrimshaw of the Republic Navy,_ he sighed, _all of them_. His eyes moved towards another name—one that they had been searching for all this time. _Traya_.

He felt his anger, his rage, every conceivable frustration directed at her, as he felt the rank state of the Dark Side coursing from the lower levels to the top. He knew the experiments were occurring in the lower levels—in the sub-levels of the structure._ It was Traya's fault_, he determined. _She created them to wipe us out—all of us. Now I shall destroy her dreams and hopes for a Galaxy burning_.

_I'll make sure to visit you personally—you and I have something to talk about_. _Soon I will meet you, then I shall destroy you and I will become the most powerful and unstoppable _being_ in the Galaxy_.

"Would you really be willing to commit to that, Dante?" An old, familiar and wizened voice asked him.

It was a voice Dante hadn't heard in a long time.

"Alec," Dante whispered, as he saw the blue shrouded figure of his former Master appear before his eyes.

The Master appeared as Dante remembered, only slightly younger, more youthful. His silver hair was still slicked back, yet he still retained his scars. His clear blue eyes and his neatly trimmed beard appeared the same. Somehow, his appearance made Dante feel safer—and much younger. "Dante, do you remember what I told you when we spoke like this on the _Thunderbolt_?"

"It's been so long."

"Dante, you are strong in the Force and wise. Stay true to who you are; the Force will forever guide you." He sighed and moved closer to his former student, his expression revealing full _empathy_. "Do not give in to the Dark Side—there is something far more elusive that is attempting to control you. The Dark Side is a pathway to a life of suffering, defeat and most of all, internal destruction. There have been few who have ever returned from that path."

"I've had to live with your deaths for so long—I am not ready for another," he replied defensively.

Alec brought his hands out in a non-threatening, but obviously placating manner.

Dante had seen him do it before.

"The Dark Side will only continue to fuel your rage and twist your desires. Our deaths came as the Force willed. The powers that be are greater than even you or I could comprehend."

"The Unifying Force has done nothing to bridge the gap between us and the Sith. We are failing and if I end this now, I can save the Galaxy."

"The Galaxy will continue to move as the Force dictates. Remember what you have learned in your life. Stay strong Dante, this place is of the Dark Side. It will consume everything. You will need to rely on your training to survive—and you must survive."

"The _Light _consumed those whom I loved."

"It took us because the Force needed us to help further the protection of the future. You're teaching the future Dante. What you do now, will forever echo throughout the generations to come. Our deaths have helped you to overcome your darker aspects—the shadows that sought to consume you."

"They still seek to consume me, Master," Dante replied sourly.

"But the fact you are still here, debating against the Darkness within yourself, tells you how far you've come since our paths separated. You've become far more powerful as a person, and I foresee that your destiny still has a long way to come. Rena is your future—you must protect her at all costs."

"I have had premonitions of her falling," he replied, somewhat sheepishly.

"You must overcome the Darkness within and reach your fulcrum. You will be able to save her only by accomplishing that. When the time comes, you will face the Darkness as another."

"What do you mean?"

The shrouded figure's eyes shifted towards the ground. "I am sorry, Dante, but that is all I can tell you. The future is always in motion, full of many possibilities. What you do now will define what future will occur. Be wary of your actions, for this will inevitably have an effect on the way of the Force."

Dante looked down to the ground in shame. "Master, I am sorry. I have failed you."

_Nonsense_, Alec replied, snorting in his usual manner. "You are a gifted Jedi—you've just fallen on hard times. You've done a great thing, trying to rebuild the Order and I know that in time, you will seek out Revan. But Dante," he said, cupping one hand under Dante's chin and lifting his face to see the young man he had essentially raised. "You must stay strong. I will always be with you, but events are still being played out. You are a key figure in all of this, all that is left for you to do now, is to complete your part and live."

Dante looked at his Master determinedly. "I will, Master." He felt nothing but warmth emanate from the touch of his former Master.

Alec could only smile. "The time will come when you will be freed from all of these tasks, young one. Until then, know that you will never be alone—ever." With that, he faded away, leaving Dante to his own devices.

Dante blinked his eyes for a few moments, attempting to understand what had just happened. His eyes had been on the console the entire time. He could have sworn it had been there. He felt the residual presence of his former Master, and the words he had left behind. _I'll protect Rena, Master_, Dante swore silently. _I will overcome the Darkness_.

He closed the console and moved away from it. _Now, I need some answers._ He walked through the corridor and into the adjoining one, without any resistance.

He saw a doorway and two thicker Sith wardroids standing comfortably by the doors, cradling heavy repeating carbines.

_Oh, just perfect_, he thought. He rotated the lightsaber in his hand, knowing full well that it was his best choice to eliminate those droids. It was likely his heavy blaster wouldn't be able to handle the two droids, even if it was a Mandalorian weapon. His other hand moved behind his back, under the longcoat, as he removed a familiar bronze coloured lightsaber. _Here's to you, Master_, Dante thought, as he ignited his sapphire lightsaber in his right hand, while the viridian blade glowed in his left.

The droids shifted their attention to the _snap-hiss_ and steadied their blasters as they moved towards where their audio-receptors picked up the sound.

Timing it, Dante turned the corner and raced towards them, his lightsabers moving about in several patterns, deflected the energy bolts, sending a few striking into the heavy armour the droids sported.

As the droids stood still and poured out relentless fire, they didn't anticipate the likelihood of facing a Jedi.

Dante closed the gap between then, shifting the blades in his hands and angling the blades behind him, as he raced between them. He arced his arms towards one another, as they stopped in front of his chest, fist to fist and the lightsabers' blades thrummed perpendicular to him.

The clattering of metal sounded behind him.

He turned around and saw both droids lying on the ground, in halves. _Never doubt the Jedi_, he smiled, as he deactivated the viridian blade and holstered it under his coat. He walked towards the door and it opened.

* * *

Tamar sat comfortably in his office, staring away from the doorway as he stared out at the livelihood of Corellia. _Ah, sweet Corellia_, he thought, as he brought a glass of Corellian brandy to his mouth, sipping it and swishing it in his mouth, tasting the sweet amber liquid. _A toast to the end of the Jedi_, he smiled, after the liquid went coursing down his throat.

He enjoyed the fact that his facility had been the focal point of Traya's plan to create the army of their own Jedi. What he was doing, was creating a new era of the Republic—a time to bring a new order of Jedi into the Galaxy. Jedi that would be unerringly loyal to the Republic and the Galaxy.

Though he regretted the fact that Forn Dodonna had essentially dissolved the Republic, at least the Core Worlds contained some semblance of the Republic, calling the Core World coalition the _New_ Republic. _Perhaps these new Jedi would protect the new era—and I could run for the new Supreme Chancellor._ He sighed as he thought of Dodonna. It was a shame she had stepped down. He had enjoyed seeing her at every meeting and had even entertained the notion of having intimate relations with her.

Before he could dwell further on Dodonna, he heard the thrumming of lightsabers by his doorway. _What?_ He swiveled around in his chair, rising as the doorway opened and he saw a brown skinned human dressed darkly brandishing a blue lightsaber looking at him.

"Sit," the Jedi said darkly.

Tamar did exactly that. From the appearance of the human, Tamar deduced he was one of the few who were still in the Temple. From the man's appearance, Tamar deduced the Jedi's name was Dante Ravenmoon.

"It seems you have a lot to answer for, _Director_."

"Perhaps," he replied calmly, as his fur slightly bristled under the tension. His hand slowly went lower, under the desk as he felt for the holdout blaster he kept there.

If Dante appeared to know what he was doing, the Jedi didn't show it. "Tell me about Operation: Guardian Shield."

"I believe if you already know the name of it, you would have figured out what it really is," Tamar replied, attempting to remain in control of the conversation that was occurring.

"Oh really? Tell me, Director, why did you choose to clone Jedi? Why Revan's DNA?"

"I think it is quite obvious," he replied, attempting to buy time as he grabbed the holdout blaster.

"No riddles. I want the truth."

"The truth?" The Bothan scoffed. "Why Revan's DNA? It is quite obvious—he managed to revive life in the Republic during the Mandalorian Wars. I took part in that war and I've seen firsthand what had happened. The question was, where could we find Revan's DNA? It was provided to us."

"By whom?"

"By Traya. She served on the Council, shortly before she chose to leave during the Jedi Civil War. How she chose to obtain his DNA hardly matters to me. We were given it a year after the Mandalorian wars."

_That's almost 15 years—which Traya is he referring to? _Dante kept his lightsaber poised, facing the Bothan. "Why did you choose to clone Jedi?"

The Bothan sighed. "We saw firsthand the devastation the Jedi wrought during both wars. Several of us knew what would happen if the Jedi chose to rebel against the Republic. We cloned Jedi on our side—Jedi who we could control. They would be completely loyal to us—to the Republic! Not like _you_," he hissed. He rose, leveling his blaster at Dante. He squeezed the trigger and felt a hot searing pain come across his wrist.

Dante noticed the blaster long before and with little motion, he severed the Bothan's hand, leaving him to cradle the stump as he fell back to his seat again. "Please continue," he replied.

Tamar couldn't scream, as he felt the searing pain where his hand used to be. _No!_ He thought. "The pain," he gasped.

"The pain will cease, as soon as you tell me," Dante replied, apathetic to the Director's pain. "Now, please continue."

Gasping, he looked at Dante, who stared back, with his dark, soulless eyes. There was no mirth to his expression—not even a twinkle in his eyes.

"Fine," he mustered, attempting to gain control over himself as he began to sweat. He grabbed the bottle of brandy, having long since knocked over the cup. And he popped open the bottle, guzzling several precious mouthfuls of the liquid.

Dante, morbidly amused, allowed the Director to drink.

"The Jedi were promised to us by Traya. She-she is far more powerful than you think. She gave us the trainers, the DNA—everything."

"And what happened in the cloning?"

"It was a failure. We cloned the first batch," Tamar replied, in between breaths. "Many had gone insane—we didn't know why."

_The Force_, Dante thought. _They went insane because they couldn't handle the raw power of the Force—and that they all felt the same._

"So we had to put down a few. The others began to act strangely—some began to cut themselves, others began to take on deformities. But there were six that were perfect," he said, knowing full well he told Traya that there were only four.

"And what happened to them?" Dante asked, as he watched the Bothan, who was sweating heavily now, take in a mouthful of his precious alcohol.

"They had formed links to one another, somehow wiping out the insanity that happened with the others. There was something strange in the genetic process—something we had never anticipated. They were all clones of Revan, but they took on their _own_ independent traits. Some had the ability to select their gender during the process. We had _female_ Revans as a result. There were two of them, who were part of the perfects we dubbed _Alphas_."

"Go on," Dante said, his mind racing with the information.

"One of the females began to have dreams—we found out that the nightmares she was having, was really a connection she had somehow formed with their host."

"Revan."

"Yes," he gasped, the pain subsiding, as the alcohol began to slowly affect his mind. "We dubbed the Alphas the 'Naver' family. We chose Naver because we thought it added to the creativity and honour of their host. You see, Naver is _Revan_, backwards."

_You're nothing more than a monster, Director_, Dante thought, as he listened patiently.

"We named them, Horn, Torn, Diara, Rena, Malik, Tainer," he chuckled. "Malik and Tainer died a few days later after they had bonded to one another. They were 8 years of age. We found out that Horn and Torn were the ones who were responsible for it. They joined the assassin training."

"What else?"

"Rena went insane," he began, "with the nightmares." He began to laugh for a moment. "Diara was killed after an accident, which prompted Rena to escape. This happened quite some time ago. We didn't realize she had joined you until one of the Senators noticed her at some ceremony with your Jedi."

Dante's expression darkened with fury, as he watched the Bothan laugh.

"She escaped, causing a riot within the mutants and we thought she had died. You came to her rescue. But there is more—we had several other Revan clones that seemed perfect, but had some disabilities. There were a few, and they were blind, deaf or mute. We gave them names, but one of them was far more powerful in your so-called _Force_. We called him Deus—and we fitted him with eye and voice prosthetics. He is far more powerful than Revan," he chuckled, undoubtedly proud of Deus. "And he is exceptionally skilled in lightsaber combat—the best there ever will be."

"Why exactly did you do it, Director?"

"Money, power, honour, fame—you name it. I did it all because of that, but most of all, I _hated_ you Jedi. I hate you even now. You were the reasons why the Galaxy is like this. If it weren't for Revan, we would have been destroyed, while your precious Order sat so sullenly and safely within your Temple. This was the ultimate way to ensure the Jedi would bolster us in war."

"No, Director, what you did was far worse than anything we could ever have done." Dante's expression seemed sincere and dark at the same time. The Director had been played for a fool and had done the bidding of Traya.

"_Worse_?" He asked incredulously.

"You aided the Dark Jedi and handed over the Galaxy to them on a silver platter. Traya played you for a fool."

"No she didn't!"

"Of course she did. You're just too drunk to realize it. Do you think she'd let you live after all of this?"

And then it dawned on Tamar. He looked at Dante, in pure rage. "You won't succeed with your mind tricks, _Jedi_, I've been trained to resist them."

"I wouldn't even use a simple trick on you—even if you are drunk. I just need to know one more thing, Director," Dante asked, as the lightsaber filled the silence.

"What is it?"

"What does Traya look like?"

Tamar smiled. "She's a pretty one. White hair, strong jaw, regal by the looks of her. She could be Echani."

_Atris_, Dante thought bitterly, as he struggled to keep his anger in check. Before he could say anything more, he felt a ripple of the Force. His eyes went wide opened as he rolled off to the side and saw two Dark Jedi decloak in front of him.

Tamar laughed. "Now see, these are _my_ Jedi! Say hello to Horn and Torn Naver!"

The assassins looked at Tamar.

"Kill him," Tamar ordered, "show him where your loyalties lie. He has your _sister_."

The assassins didn't move, and Dante rose, as he felt their presences. Tamar had been telling him the truth. They were clones of Revan. That also meant his sweet Rena was an aberration as well. His heart sunk a bit, but he paid attention to the altercation.

"Kill him! Just don't stand there!"

Horn looked at his brother and nodded. _Kill him, as per the Mistress' orders._

With an extended hand, Torn sent Tamar crashing through the window, falling to his death. _It is done, of course, brother._

Dante eyed them, as they ignited their crimson lightsabers. _Oh Sith_, he thought. Their strength in the Force was great, and it meant only more trouble for Dante. He brought his blade up, and deflected the thrust of Horn, as he felt Torn approach behind him.

Torn slash at Dante's back, causing the Jedi to leap over the pair and land onto the desk of the late Director.

The Naver twins stared at Dante, sizing him up.

_This one is skilled, brother,_ Horn relayed to his brother.

_He shall prove most challenging_, Torn replied.

Dante readied himself as the dark Naver twins began to move towards him slowly, their weapons poised to strike.

* * *

**Author's Notes: And there you have it, folks. The actual identity behind Rena, Deus, the Naver Twins and a bunch of other stuff. Now, we get to see what happens to the Galaxy and what the Force has in store for Rena, Deus and the others. **


	31. Countdown to Apocalypse

_Countdown to Apocalypse _

General Erik Scrimshaw stood staring out at the planet below. He had been ordered to orbit Corellia, by the one he and his fleet had sworn loyalty to. He was dressed in his normal red and orange command uniform, carrying the General's pips on his collar. Erik had always been considered a handsome young man, with short dark brown hair, angular features, a medium build and his soft brown eyes. The well-lit bridge was pristine, as controllers monitored their stations and he slowly paced the command center.

His thoughts had turned to when he had been forced to eliminate all of those who were not loyal to him—in order for him to move on and join forces with the illustrious Traya. Those who would have presented the greatest threat to him were dealt with immediately, as they were sent to a barracks and gassed. The others were dealt within a series of 'malfunctions' throughout the older frigates that they had all been assigned to.

He was young, and an exceptionally capable commander, which is why it was no surprise to him that he had been promoted to General of a task force. _If you were still here, Father, you would be proud._

He sighed, knowing full well that no one had known much about young Erik Scrimshaw. He recalled his father, who had served in the Mandalorian and the Jedi Civil War alongside Revan and Malak. That man had been a skillful Admiral and he had come to an end when his protégé had killed him in a fit of vengeance. It was no surprise that Scrimshaw would have joined the Republic Navy and sworn his allegiance to the Sith. Carth Onasi killed Saul Karath and Erik Scrimshaw would repay the favour by wiping out the Republic that Onasi so fervently attempted to save.

Even if he were an illegitimate son, he had known his father and his exploits. The fact that Erik had become one of the top officials in the Republic Navy spoke about the skills he had inherited from his father. Saul would have been very proud of him.

Saul had once told him that the best way to trap an enemy was to lull him into a false sense of security. _Well, Carth, _he thought deprecatingly, _let's see how secure you really are._

"Sir," one of his lieutenants called out to him. "We have an incoming transmission from Mistress Traya."

"Good, I'll take it in the briefing room." Scrimshaw walked out of the bridge, as he passed through the austere hallways, passing by fully armoured soldiers and officers that saluted him. As he entered the chambers, a large, life-size figure of Mistress Traya appeared.

"_Greetings, General,_" she replied in her dry tone. Her face had somehow become paler—though the holographic displayers weren't able to properly reveal her true skin colour. It also appeared that she had some blotches across her high cheekbones. Her eyes had also appeared to be slowly atrophying, but he couldn't be sure.

"Greetings Mistress," he bowed.

"_I trust all is well?_"

"Yes, Mistress."

"_Have you picked up the shipment?_"

He nodded, "yes, Mistress."

"_Good,_" she replied. "_Are the detonators set in the Stage Three planets?_"

"Yes, Mistress. My field officers report that they are."

"_Good._" Her expression hadn't changed the slightest, which unnerved Scrimshaw ever so slightly.

"What are your orders?" He asked, eager to get back to the bridge and be far away from her. He could hardly comprehend how his father had managed to stand comfortable in the presence of Darth Revan and Darth Malak, though there was the off chance that Saul might have been uncomfortable in their presences.

"_Target the facility on Corellia and obliterate it._"

"The facility?" He asked, shocked.

"_That _is_ what I have said, General._"

"But what about the lives surrounding the planet? The countless soldiers and manpower we have—," he paused as his throat was constricted by an invisible hand that seemed to be crushing his windpipe. His hands went to his throat, hoping to remove the invisible hand.

"_Do you doubt my orders, General?_" She asked, her voice hinting at his imminent death.

"No, Mistress," he struggled as he tried to breathe.

"_Good,_" she replied. "_Then do as I say. Target the facility and fire your heaviest charge and destroy it. After that is done, activate Stage Three and prepare your fleet for the jump to hyperspace, where you will go to Coruscant and begin to assault the planet's defences and fleet. My fleet shall bolster your forces considerably._"

"Yours will be done, Mistress," he rasped, as he felt the immense pressure leave his throat, causing him to crumple to the ground, panting for precious air.

"_Good. I'd hate to lose a worthwhile Commander such as yourself, General._" She smiled mirthlessly, her thin lips forming an even thinner smile on her formally regal face. Her figure winked out, and the message came to an end.

Scrimshaw sat there on the floor, breathing heavily and pondering his fate. He rose several moments later, recomposing himself as he walked away, towards the bridge to order the Mistress' will.

* * *

"Good, now reach out with the Force, extend your surroundings and hear the subtle vibrations. Follow the swirls and arcs of the Force," Visas whispered, as she sat side by side with Atton, both of them in a meditation trance.

He could feel the extensions of the Force, as blue, white and yellow swirls guided him far away from the vessel, as he saw people of every colour, race and gender throughout the whole of Corellia. He could feel the undercurrents and tones of life, as babies were born; children celebrated their birthdays and the passion between two lovers.

_Hey, this isn't so bad_, he thought, while he stretched out further with the Force, attuning himself to the whims of the Force.

_Quiet,_ Visas sent to him. _Focus on the waves and undertow of emotions throughout the planet—feel the _life_, the vibrancy of it, almost as if it were nothing more than a coarse, calm river that is slowly picking up speed._

He felt the not-so-subtle shifting in the Force and emotions, as he felt a wave of hysteria, sadness, and rage fall into the mix, watching as passionate lovers turned on one another, as buildings detonated, as lives were torn apart in a variety of seconds. He witnessed the merciless slaughter of innocents at the hands of rakghoul appearing creatures, as they tore into their flesh, while figures in black mutilated young children.

Men and women in white creating vats of young children, training and honing their skills, as they killed each other with horrifying efficiency that sent shivers of revulsion coursing down Atton's spine.

_Atton, calm down_, Visas assured him, sending soothing waves to calm him down.

He slowly began to calm, as he witnessed another image. This was of a young man, in a Republic uniform who looked at his officers and barked orders to fire a torpedo into a planet.

Another image changed to two figures, clothed in black and wore masks on their faces, as their lightsabers clashed with a blue lightsaber from another figure—a Jedi. The Jedi with a blue lightsaber also wore black, but carried a longcoat that flowed with his movements. In that moment, the figure ducked and rolled, blocking both blades that came towards his face, in an attempt to behead him. In that moment, Atton saw the face of Dante, struggling hard to defend himself against the onslaught of the two powerful foes. His lips were caked with blood and his cheek was slightly bruised.

His eyes snapped open, and he turned to face Visas, who had just woken from the trance. "We need to get Dante!" He said, as he rose, feeling the tight soreness in his muscles. He cast that aside as he raced towards the helm, jumping into the seat as he flipped several switches and heard the whine of the engines.

She rose, and looked at him quizzically. "What did you sense?"

He glanced at her, as he guided the freighter towards the building. "Trouble."

As the vessel hovered on repulsors, Visas and Atton looked at the scene before them.

Dante was fighting admirably—and hopelessly—against two powerful Dark Jedi that bore the presence of someone Atton felt he knew.

* * *

Dante continued to block and parry against their swings. He rolled away from the desk, as it was sent flying away, out of the building.

The pair eyed Dante with something akin to interest in his fighting stance.

_This one is indeed worthy_, Horn sent to his brother.

_Very worthy,_ Torn replied.

Dante felt the whining in the Force, as he realized Visas and Atton had arrived.

_Hold on, Dante,_ he felt Visas say within his mind.

He watched as the Naver twins assaulted him, forcing Dante to raise his lightsaber up and down, as he deflected each overhead and underhand strike they imposed on him.

The pair continued to move around Dante, continuing their dance, as Horn brought his blade overhead, forcing Dante back, while Torn slashed horizontally, forcing Dante to deflect and pivot himself around.

Dante, growing tired from the relentless strikes, parried Horn's strike and carried out with a riposte, sending the assassin back. Spinning around, he slapped Torn's blade away, as he jumped, pushing all weight and power into his right foot as he kicked the assassin in the face.

He turned and extended his free hand, sending Horn flying back. He paused as he felt a subtle pinprick in the Force. He felt it was almost as if the minor pin in the sky above was growing heavier with speed and weight, as it came bearing down towards where he was. His eyes opened wide as he realized what it was.

The pinprick in the Force was undoubtedly why Atton and Visas had come for him. The pinprick was a torpedo or missile that happened to be gathering immense speed and its target was the facility that Dante happened to be inside of at the moment.

Driven purely by instinct, Dante raced towards the window, leaping out with the Force, as he heard the whine of the freighter's engines, as it flew under him. He landed heavily; as he saw two green striped Republic fighters come racing towards them.

Before he could slide off the freighter, he clipped his lightsaber to his belt and with both hands, sought for a crevice or some handle that he could hold on to, as the freighter weaved through several buildings. He watched as he saw a fierce blue drop crash into the structure and detonate into a massive explosion, as the fire and debris ripped through the area, tearing down two adjacent buildings and enveloping the area in black fumes that darkened the night sky even further.

He sighed, as he saw the two CorSec fighters peel away and leave the scene. He felt a mass wave of death enter through the Force, leaving a profound void of the Dark Side, but he could still feel the residue of the Dark Side there. He also felt two familiar presences survive and escape in those fighters.

Somehow, Horn and Torn had caught wind of the missile and managed to escape, undoubtedly killing the CorSec pilots in the process.

He turned around as he moved to enter the freighter from a dorsal hatch. Entering it, he came down and entered the cockpit, gaunt, as he said to Atton, "thanks for the pickup." He coughed for a moment.

"No problem" the brash pilot replied. "After all, if we didn't, we'd have a hard time trying to find Theresa," he couldn't help but add.

Dante smirked and hobbled to the main hold, causing Visas to look on with concern.

"Go to him, Visas," Atton suggested softly.

"He seems to need some help," she said, rising and leaving.

Atton could only smile. Maybe his little project would come in handy in a myriad of ways.

Visas approached him, helping him remove his coat as she took him to the medbay. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, as he sat on the medical bed. He removed his holsters and both of his lightsabers, as he removed his shirt.

"You're wounded," she replied, as she noticed darker patches of the Force on parts of his body.

"Not really—just bruised. Deflecting lightsabers is one thing; getting hit is another." He tried to chuckle but felt himself coughing from the last attack.

She felt his chest with one hand, tracing over a scar on his chest as he pulled back, causing her to recoil.

"Cold," he stated.

"Sorry," she replied, her face flushing slightly red. "I need to feel your bruises—to see how I can help."

"I'll be all right," he began, only to feel Visas' hands touch the bruises on his chest. He didn't add that his lips were caked with blood and he was bruised on his left cheekbone. He was surprised at the lethality of those two, but then again, he never had to face Revan at any time. He replayed the duel in his mind, attempting to place how those two fought, as a thought came to him: they were twins. They would have been able to coordinate their attacks quickly, which added to their lethality.

Not even he and Rena combined could have been that lethal, even with their bond.

He breathed in sharply, causing him to flinch as he felt a sharp pain course near his ribs.

"Are you all right?" Visas asked.

"My ribs," he groaned as he lay down on the medical cot.

She planted her hand over his chest, trying hard not to blush, as she let the Force flow from her hands and into his body, as she felt the minute shifting in the cellular behaviour, as they moved to help heal his torn muscles and fractured ribs.

If Dante noticed her blushing, he didn't say anything. In fact, he closed his eyes, resting his hands on hers, as he channeled the Force through her, adding to her considerable skill in healing. He kept adding the Force to her abilities, as she continued to spur his cells on to healing his body.

After a moment longer, she had finally finished in healing most of his wounds, though she was not as tired, mainly due in part to Dante's efforts.

Panting, he looked at her, "tell Atton to make our way to Coruscant. I need to see the Jedi Temple." In a matter of moments, he lost consciousness for no particular reason, other than that he was tired from exerting himself.

She kissed him on the forehead and whispered, "rest, Dante. You need it far more than anyone else." She placed a soft blanket over him, as she watched him rest. After another moment of placing his objects on a seat, she left towards the cockpit, to inform Atton of their next destination.

When she sat down in the cockpit, Atton looked at her, as they entered space.

"So? Did you tell him?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't, he was tired from exerting himself. He sustained some wounds—but he's all right now." She rubbed her hands, remembering the touch of his hands on hers, and how they connected when he channeled the Force into her, to aid his injured body.

"Oh," he replied. He spotted several Republic cruisers jumping to lightspeed. He looked at his sensors, noticing the lack of a Sith vessel. "Something's not right," he said after a moment.

Visas looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"There is no Sith warship, fleet, you name it. In fact, there was only a Republic battle group that had just jumped to lightspeed." He checked the sensors again. "No Sith warship. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Before he passed out, he said to go to Coruscant, to the Jedi Temple."

"Will do," Atton replied, as he tapped in several keys. "I think that is where the Republic group went," he added as he pulled the level and they entered hyperspace.

After a few moments, Atton locked the ship on autopilot, as he rose and left to the main hold, along with Visas. "We need to check the Holonet and see if there is something we should know about that explosion."

She glanced at him unconvinced.

"Maybe a journalist knows who fired that missile or something," he replied, looking askance.

Visas didn't say anything, as she sat down. _Those deaths that occurred in that facility seemed a lot greater than anything I've felt in the Force. What went on in there?_

He opened the Holonet and was shocked as he saw a journalist speaking about the dissolution of the Republic and the detonation of several facilities on several Mid-Rim and Inner Core planets.

"_The casualty toll is catastrophic. In the Galaxy's worst incident, several factions have pointed the finger at one another, as countless millions lie dead throughout the Galaxy, and countless thousands are missing. The toll is at fifteen million, two hundred and seventy-three thousand, eight hundred and nineteen dead, while there is approximately four hundred, twenty-one thousand, one hundred and sixty wounded. The explosions occurred throughout most of Galaxy—mainly in the heavily populated regions, ranging from Eriadu to Adumar. No one is sure who is actually behind these attacks, but reports have led to suspect that there were Sith and Republic saboteurs responsible. There have even been few claims of Mandalorians attempting to reprise their role in another war, but that has yet to be confirmed._"

Atton let out a low whistle as he looked at Visas. "I knew something wasn't right. Can you believe it? I wonder who's behind this."

Visas shook her head. "I can't be certain, but I think it may have something to do with Atris."

"Atris? That Jedi Theresa fought on Telos? I thought she was dead?"

She shook her head again. "No, Theresa spared her life. I can only assume that Atris has fallen to the Dark Side—as Dante had suspected."

Atton's eyes went wide, almost as if he forgotten the conversation in Kuat. The truth was that he was inebriated and couldn't pay attention until their altercation with a group of disgruntled species. "Wait, what? Why didn't _he _kill her on Telos?"

"He went to Telos to look for her," she explained, sighing, "instead, he found Mical."

Atton narrowed his eyes, as he felt a pang of jealousy at the mere mention of the Disciple who tried to intrude on the _then_ budding romance between Theresa and Atton. "He's still around?"

Visas shook her head sadly. "No, I am afraid not. He had been corrupted by Atris, which led to Dante and his…Apprentice to fight against him." She couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable and a bit jealous at the minor mention of Dante's pupil. "Mical was killed," she added quickly, hoping to hide her thoughts from Atton.

Atton was silent for a moment, casting his head down as he felt a twinge of regret in him, as well as sadness. He felt ashamed to have said something cruel without realizing Mical had been twisted. As much as Atton sometimes loathed to admit it, he still respected the Disciple, and was shocked to hear of his passing. After another moment, he looked up at her. "Well, what happened to Atris?"

"No one knows. Dante has been searching for her all this time," she replied.

"Well, when he wakes up, we should be back on Coruscant. We should tell him of what happened."

"I can only fear for the Jedi in the dark times ahead," Visas muttered, as she couldn't help but turn her thoughts towards Dante, fearing for whatever cruelty fate had in store him.

She went to the dormitory and sat on her cot, crossing her legs and throwing herself into a trance as she breathed deeply, losing her state of being and delving far into the Force.

_

* * *

She stood there, her lips bloody, body bruised and one mangled arm, but she stood defiant. She had one last act to go, as the room around her was filled with klaxons and alarms blaring that warned her of imminent destruction._

_Visas had one chance to end it all now, before the Galaxy would perish. She turned away from the view of space, watching someone screaming out for her. _

_She looked and gasped as she saw a burnt figure drive something into her, causing her to double over in pain. She looked up and saw the burnt face with one good eye and most of the jaw revealing itself. _

_The figure brought a blaster up to her head. The figure's hand had been burned away, and only the tattered and torn red and orange uniform of the Republic gave any indication of who the figure was. _

_She looked away and before the figure could squeeze the trigger, she shoved out with the Force, destroying a console that caused the figure to scream out in rage. _

_Screaming, the charred form squeezed the trigger, and Visas' vision went black for a moment, as her world came tumbling down. _

_She watched on as the room caught on fire and she whispered three words to the one person who had been lost in his own sea of rage. "I love you," she mustered, before darkness enveloped her._

* * *

Atris sat comfortably in her throne, smiling as she saw the reports of the dead on several planets. _Good,_ she thought, as she sipped some wine from the cup in her hand, _now the Galaxy has experienced a bloodied nose. It is time to reveal to them the catastrophic fate that awaits them with Stage Four._

She tapped several keys on her console near her armrest. A blue-hued image of General Erik Scrimshaw appeared. "Ah, General Scrimshaw, I trust that you obliterated the facility?"

"_Yes, Mistress, I have done as you have ordered._"

"Good," she replied. "Are you en route to Coruscant?"

"_Yes, Mistress,_" he replied, somewhat monotonously.

Atris bit down the urge to give him another lesson with the dark powers she had learned from those holocrons. "Excellent. Things are beginning to work favourably. Are those baradium cores and other detonators planted on the rest of those strategic locations?"

"_Of course, Mistress._"

"Good. Soon we shall be ready to engage Stage Four, and then," she said, her expression growing darker, "we shall have what the Galaxy has so desperately tried to keep from us."

"_Excellent, Mistress_," he replied.

"We will arrive in a few hours. I trust you will be able to survive for that long?"

He smiled. "_I will be able to survive longer than that, thanks to the modifications your fleet engineers were kind enough to impart on my fleet._"

"We're allies, after all," Atris replied, "you will get your prize and we shall all have our vengeance on the Jedi and the Republic."

With that, the figure shimmered away, leaving Atris alone to enjoy the prospects of mayhem that would follow, as the cores detonated in a series of flawlessly timed explosions, causing chain reactions that would spur all Galactic forces to slaughter one another.

_The Galaxy will find itself on its knees before it finds itself annihilated by the weapons of the Masters. I shall burn the Galaxy—including the real Masters of the Sith Empire. In the end, _she thought, sipping from the precious wine once more, _I would have already purged the Galaxy of _all _life._

For the first time in a long time, things were starting to finally look up in the world of _Darth Traya_. The countdown to Apocalypse had begun, and Atris was just getting warmed up.

* * *

**Author's Notes: And so things are really getting to its boiling point. The Jedi will find themselves in a fight for their lives, the Republic will find itself clinging onto its will to survive and the Sith...well, we shall see what fate has in store for all.**


	32. Broken Chains

_Broken Chains _

Rena blocked each swipe Sebastian made.

He swung left and then right, as he twirled his body towards her, turning the deadly double-bladed lightsaber into a sphere of lacerating energy that sought her blood. It hardly mattered to him whether she lived or died—he could always claim that she had tried to kill him, which wasn't stretching the truth.

She jumped back, her thoughts focused on stopping the Sith Apprentice, as she rotated her blade in a counter-clockwise fashion, deflecting one shaft of crimson energy.

He twirled his lightsaber around his body, as he moved in closer to her, eager to knock her blade away and finish it.

She continued moving back, as her blade met each side, overhead and underhand, as she spun around him, slashing her blade horizontally, causing Sebastian Marseilles to move back and size her up again.

"You're good," he commented, forcing himself not to pant heavily for air, and to ensure that she didn't realize how much of a break he needed.

She poised herself, not commenting as a dark twinkle glittered in her eyes.

He chuckled dryly, "not going to talk?"

Rena's thoughts turned to little Febe, who was now hiding in Rena's chambers. If she died, then Sebastian would undoubtedly harm the young girl. She cried out determinedly, as she brought her blade over her head, and crashed against his blade, spinning around as she brought her blade upright to prevent his counter-attack.

He spun around, extending his leg, as his heel caught her in the shoulder, sending her back. He grinned as he went into a butterfly, leaping towards her.

She leapt over him, arcing herself as her blade came down and slashed through the hilt of his weapon, shearing both blades in half.

He fell back, but was quickly back on his feet, as he looked in his hands to see a crimson lightsaber in each hand. He grinned and looked at her again. "You're going to regret that."

Much to her dismay, she began to block Sebastian's thrusts and flurries as he spun around, each red swirl moving high and low, to be met with an emerald blade.

He continued, bringing his blades around him, slashing left and right, horizontally and diagonally, not allowing Rena a chance to push back.

She spun her blade in a semi-circle, as she turned around and gathering all of her strength, she swung her blade with hopes of tearing Sebastian in half from groin to head.

He saw it for what it was and leapt back, causing her to stumble, which bought him time as he pressed his attack once more.

She growled fiercely as she continued to be pushed back, moving her blade low and high, looking for an opening in his attacks.

He smiled, thinking he had the end of it, as he brought both blades in a cross pattern, only to watch an emerald shaft of energy crash into the center, aiming for his head.

Locked, both Jedi continued to struggle, as Rena struggled with all of her might to bring the blade down and sever his head.

Struggling, Sebastian felt his strength ebbing slowly, as he felt the Padawan's rage slowly swell, giving her an edge, as his blades slowly began to descend on him. Not hesitating a moment, he shifted his left, locking the emerald blade between his pair and guiding it away, as his elbow crashed against her face, sending her back and ending the lock.

Grunting and ignoring the dull pain, she quickly turned around, gaining her bearings as two red blades came streaking for her. Raising her lightsaber, she smacked them away, towards her left, as she shoved herself against Sebastian.

He spun about, staggering slightly, as they eyed each other with disdain, circling one another. "So," he said, panting, "you're far better than I had thought. Use your anger to strike me down—I _dare_ you." He laughed maliciously, as he felt her contemplate giving in to her baser emotions. After another moment, he felt her look at him with unnerving resolve.

"I won't fall into the trap you've lost yourself in already, fool," she hissed.

His expression turned sour and he thrust out with both blades.

She leapt back and pivoted on her side, extending her right foot, as it smashed into his face.

* * *

Lotus witnessed the battle from her vessel, after she had engaged repulsors, hovering beside an empty corridor. Hundreds of Republic soldiers had entered the Jedi Temple, as they fought alongside the remaining Jedi Masters, who were eliminating the Dark Jedi.

_Traya won't be happy about this_, she grumbled in her mind. _But then again, Traya would still see this as a victory—odd woman_. She gathered the Force around her, and leapt through the broken window, rolling on the ground and rising, as she pulled her lightsabers out in the same movement. She looked around and confident that no one was there, she raced around the hallway and entered another corridor that forced her to pause and witness a ferocious duel between a female Padawan and Sebastian Marseilles.

It dawned on her that the Padawan was none other than Rena Naver. Feeling another presence within an adjoining room, Lotus silently stalked through there—hoping to find a way of persuading Rena to join her. All she needed was Dante's star pupil, and her vengeful plot would begin. She ignored Sebastian's plight, knowing full well he would die before the night was out—be it from her or the Padawan.

* * *

He fell back and barely brought his lightsaber up in time.

She was on him with incredible speed and savagery, as her blade snaked around her, covering her in streaks of furious green as she thrust and slashed side to side.

Sebastian held on as best he could, arcing his blades to block her attacks, as he was both mesmerized and terrified at her ferocity.

She switched her grip on her blade, as she began to slash at him in backhand motions, rotating her grip again as she slashed left, knocking both red blades away, and then right, knocking them and its wielder back.

He began to whimper slightly, as he continued to give ground against her attacks.

Rena's downward slash knocked the lightsabers away, and with a twitch of her wrist, she severed one blade's hilt, causing Sebastian to defend himself with only his single blade.

He spun about, slashing for her arms wildly, knowing that he would have to abandon all training to defeat her.

She met his wild attacks blade for blade, as she deflected his blades and spun around him, coming closer to him, yet far enough.

Feeling that he had her in his grasp, Sebastian Marseilles lunged.

Catching him in her guile, she guided his lightsaber along, with her blade perpendicular to his. With a flick, she smiled as her blade found its way into his chest, searing through his heart.

He gasped, as the hot searing pain coursed through his chest. Before he knew anything more, he found himself closer to Rena Naver, who still held her blade inside his chest.

"It's over," she said, looking at him darkly. "You've lost."

He gasped as he felt the shaft of energy leave his body, retreating back into its emitter. He fell to the ground, as darkness enveloped him.

She sighed, looking around, as the sounds of blasters now added to the cacophony of the battle. _Febe_, she thought, as she ran towards her chamber doors.

As she got there, she paused, feeling distress from the young girl. She ignited her blade and opened the doors, only to see the young girl sitting on the bed, with a crimson blade thrumming dangerously close to her throat.

The woman who carried the blade appeared different from the other Dark Jedi she had dueled, but Rena eyed her suspiciously.

"Rena Naver," the dark clad woman acknowledged.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you are," Rena said cautiously, looking at the scared Youngling.

The dark clad woman moved closer into the slits of light that shone through the room. She had short, shoulder-length raven hair, and mismatched eyes. Her left eye was green, while her right eye was blue. She also wore two modified gauntlets on her forearms, and carried strategic plating on her armour.

It was obviously to Rena that she was more of an assassin than anything else.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she began, "my name is Lotus Xa. I am an _old friend_ of your Master."

Rena tensed, knowing that whoever Lotus really was, she was no friend to Dante Ravenmoon. "Leave the girl out of this," she warned.

"Oh, _her_?" Lotus asked. "You have nothing to worry about—I was just being friendly, that's all."

"What do you want?"

Lotus smiled. "I want a great number of things. But I can only assume that you are asking what I want with you—as you Jedi would normally ask. I want to show you the way of the Force—the _truth_ of the Force. I would even like to show you who _you_ really are."

"I know who I am," she replied defiantly.

Lotus chuckled. "Of course you would say that, but I know what you truly are. You're an artificial person, a shadow of the original: _Revan_."

Rena tensed and clenched her jaw.

Febe looked at both of them silently.

"Yes," Lotus said, smiling widely, "you know I am right. You don't have to listen to the narrow views of the Jedi anymore—I can help you become your _own_ person. I can help you become greater than Revan; simply cast down the shackles the Jedi forces upon you."

"You're nothing but a fool, Lotus," Rena replied. "The Dark Side is not for me—whether I am a Jedi, a shadow of Revan or not, I am still myself in the end."

Lotus' smile faded. "Reconsider my offer now, otherwise little _Febe_ here will be the price you pay."

"You'll hurt her no matter what I choose," Rena said flatly, poising herself and shaking away the anger that was festering within her. She saw the scared look in little Febe's eyes, and it caused her hands to quiver slightly.

"Not true," Lotus said, eyeing Rena with some interest. "Did you ever pause to think what would happen if Dante found out about you?"

Rena clenched her jaw again, attempting to ignore the words that came from Lotus' mouth.

"He would most likely cast you away, calling you a traitor. He knows what you were bred for; he _knows_ what you are capable of. He would see you as a threat, and he would deal with you the way he has dealt with anyone that has stood in his own personal gain for power. He'll use you and kill you," she explained.

"It's not true," Rena said, her voice quivering. _What would happen if Dante found out about me? Would he see me the same way? Would he even love me? What if she is right?_ She shook her head, attempting to dislodge the doubts and questions that were beginning to surface and take root in her mind.

"Oh it is very true, Rena Naver, shard of Revan," Lotus said softly, almost as if it were a whisper. "He and I used to be _good_ friends, until he betrayed me."

"He did no such thing," Rena spat.

"He would never have told you of his past!" Lotus interjected. "He and I were going to become something _far_ greater when we found the Unifying Force, but he turned his back on me, falling in love with that _Twi'lek_." Her voice was full of venom as she recalled her own twisted thoughts of the encounter between her, Dante and Rin Mesa.

"No," Rena struggled.

"Of course, he would never tell anyone of his treachery. _I _had to kill her because she was going to destroy him!" Her eyes shifted to the ground, her voice filled with regret and pain as she continued her story, "and when I came to him, arms wide open, he drove his blade in me. He sought to kill me—filled with rage—and he nearly succeeded."

Rena was taken aback, almost sympathetic to the assassin in front of her. _Could he have done something such as that?_ _Dante, my sweet Dante, what are you?_

Lotus' eyes moved towards Rena. "And now he seeks to corrupt you—eager to use you. You must join me and together we can redeem him!"

Any sympathy Rena had for the Dark Jedi was lost as she heard those last words. _It's a ruse—it must be… She has her lightsaber pointed at an innocent child and she is trying to goad me into believing her! How could I have been so foolish to believe her for a moment?_

"Join me, Rena," Lotus urged, her eyes revealing the loss of her own sanity, as she was caught between her own world and reality.

"No," Rena answered.

Lotus growled and before she could make any move, she felt herself flying into the wall behind her, exploding all the air in her lungs.

"Febe!" Rena said, lowering her outstretched hand, "let's go!"

The young girl leapt off the bed and raced towards the door, with Rena in pursuit, as they heard Lotus scream behind them.

* * *

Ash and Tarn continued to exchange blows against Deus, as the Dark Jedi continued to effortlessly block their efforts.

Deus spun between them, pivoting his blade, as it deflected the older Jedi's lightsaber and shoved the younger Jedi away. Seizing their delay, Deus reached out with a large fist and struck Ash in the face, sending the older Master stumbling back.

Tarn, groggy from the last hit, noticed Ash being sent back. He cried out as he jumped towards Deus, kicking the Dark Jedi in the face.

Taking slightly by surprise, the Sith enjoyed the renewed fury with which the younger Jedi was lashing out with.

Tarn slashed horizontally, meeting only a crimson blade, as he spun around and brought his lightsaber over his head, as it crashed on the crimson blade. Growling in his frustration, the Jedi continued slashing to and fro, parrying against Deus' thrust and responding in kind with a riposte that grazed the Dark Jedi on the shoulder blade.

Deus growled, extending his hand as blue energy writhed away from his fingertips, crashing against Tarn and sending the poor Jedi back.

Ash slashed left and right, as he arced his blade upward, only to be met again with the crimson blade.

Deus lunged, only to have his lightsaber lock with the emerald blade of Ash.

Both Jedi faced each other, groaning slightly as they struggled to cause the other's blade to shift away.

Groaning, Ash slowly managed to budge the blades in a slow arc between them, as Deus lunged once more.

Ash was quick to spin around the larger Dark Jedi, who managed to respond with a snap kick to Ash's face, sending the Jedi back.

Smiling underneath his prosthetic mask, Deus grabbed Ash with the Force and sent him flying down the hallway and crashing into a pillar, that rendered the Master unconscious.

Tarn rose and witnessed Ash fly back. He screamed as he lashed out with his lightsaber, knocking the larger Jedi back, swinging his lightsaber with feral savagery.

Deus continued to parry and deflect the lightsaber, as he twirled his lightsaber around his back and brought it over his head, and crashing on Tarn's, whose blade came up in a horizontal block.

Both Jedi continued to struggle, with Deus gaining the superiority, as Tarn's knees began to buckle under the pressure.

Deus continued to press down with relative ease, as he craved for the worthy Jedi's head.

Ash slowly began to rise, shaking his head, as his blurred vision saw two Tarns locking blades with two Deus'. His eyes opened wide as he looked on with shock.

Tarn, summoning all of his strength, began to move the blades and he positioned his feet, as Deus continued to bear down on him. Moving quickly, he slammed his shoulder into the chest of the Dark Jedi, sending him back.

Slightly fazed, Deus blocked two diagonal slashes, as Tarn closed in on him.

Then it came to an end.

Deus snapped out with his elbow, hitting the Jedi Master in the face, as he snapped back and sliced the tip of his blade across the chest of Tarn Seethes.

The Jedi Master groaned and felt his body grow weak as he collapsed, with all the air from his lungs rushing away and darkness finding its way around the corners of his vision.

The mechanical laughter of Deus filled the silence as Ash looked on in horror as his former Apprentice lay there, dying on the floor.

_No,_ he thought, as his mind reeled with a dying Tarn. "No," he whispered, somehow finding the ability to talk, as he stood on his knees. "No!" He screamed out, feeling Tarn's life ebb away, along with the Force.

Deus turned and faced Ash. _Another lightsaber to my new collection_, he thought, amused at the kill count of three Jedi Masters. _I'll retrieve them in a moment_. _First, I shall end this fight between the old one and myself_. He slowly began to move towards the weakened Jedi Master.

Ash stood there, his mind replaying the death of Tarn, as he struggled to comprehend how he could have lost someone so dear. Someone that didn't know how much he really meant to the older Master. For all said and done, Ash Merrick loved Tarn deeply as a father would love his son. The truth was Ash Merrick loved his son, Tarn Seethes. He failed to notice the dark, looming figure that stood in front of him, vastly superior against a broken old man.

Deus brought his lightsaber over him, taking pleasure in the man he had broken. "This won't hurt a bit," he said bemusedly, bringing the blade down, only to find the old man much further away from him, as he flew across the hallway.

"I don't think so," Cyrin Jace said, his violet blade hungering for the Dark Jedi's blood. He noticed Ash had been on his knees, dazed and obviously crushed with the loss of Tarn. Cyrin knew that Tarn hadn't known the secret Ash had kept, and Cyrin obviously knew the pain that Ash carried, as his best friend's son lay there, dying.

Seething with fury, Deus rose and looked at the two Jedi Masters standing down the other end of the hallway. "I'll make you pay for that," he growled, as he felt his lightsaber flare to life once more in his hand.

"Deus!" A feminine voice called out towards him.

He turned and saw Lotus Xa.

"Help me retrieve your sister! The Masters want her!"

Deus clenched his jaw and followed Lotus to capture his long lost sister.

* * *

Rena carried Febe in one arm, as her lightsaber painted the hallway green. She continued to race through the hallways until she came to a dead end. "Uh oh," she muttered, as she turned around to find another escape route.

It was too late. Lotus Xa and what appeared to be a larger clone—another brother to Rena—blocked her from escaping.

She lowered Febe and whispered to the young girl, "go hide. Wait for the Masters—they'll know what to do."

Febe merely nodded as she began to move away.

"Febe," Rena added, causing the little girl to pause, "whatever you hear, do _not_ turn back, all right?"

The scared girl nodded and raced into another corridor.

"Leave the little one," Lotus said to Deus, who was going to move towards the child.

Instead, he began to take a keen interest in Rena.

"Nothing like a family reunion," Lotus said, her voice filling the echo in the corridor.

"I guess I was the lucky one," Rena replied, bringing her lightsaber up to her shoulders, poised to strike.

"How touching, you've still got some fire left in you. We'll see to that," Lotus said.

"I would like to see how you fare, _sister_," he said.

"Far be it for me to reject a request from one of my fans, but I think I'll pass," Rena replied dryly, hoping to buy more time.

Lotus smiled mirthlessly. "You talk too much."

"I'll be sure to change that," Rena answered, as she charged the pair.

Lotus smiled and extended both of her hands, as blue crackling energy left her fingertips and slammed into Rena.

Rena screamed out, as she felt jolts of pain writhe all around her body, causing her to cringe and cry out for what seemed an eternity.

Lotus laughed sadistically as she poured ounce after ounce of blue electricity into the poor girl's body, watching as she squirmed in pain and screamed in horror.

Deus deactivated his lightsaber and holstered it, surveying the scene, his fists clenching tightly as he watched Lotus unleash her devastating blue energy against the young woman who was his sister.

After another moment, Lotus relinquished the pain she brought down on the young girl.

Rena could only whimper, as smoke left her body and she felt the pain and soreness overwhelm her senses. In a handful of moments, she collapsed into darkness.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Okay, so I might have eliminated a few characters. It was actually hard to decide whether or not Tarn or Ash got the boot. So if any of you have any complaints about the result, I am sorry, but I find Ash to be far more interesting in some way. Anyhoo, if you're wondering where the heck Dante is, you'll see what shall happen soon. Coming up next, we get to see what goes on with Dante and Visas, and where Rena happens to fit in...**


	33. Broken Order

Broken Order

_She charged the pair._

_Lotus smiled and extended both of her hands, as blue crackling energy left her fingertips and slammed into Rena._

_Rena screamed out, as she felt jolts of pain writhe all around her body, causing her to cringe and cry out for what seemed an eternity._

_Lotus laughed sadistically as she poured ounce of blue electricity into the poor girl's body, watching as she squirmed in pain and screamed in horror. _

_Deus deactivated his lightsaber and holstered it, surveying the scene._

_After another moment, Lotus relinquished the pain she brought down on the young girl._

_Rena could only whimper, as smoke left her body and she felt the pain and soreness overwhelm her senses. In a handful of moments, she collapsed into darkness. _

* * *

Dante awoke several moments later, panting heavily for air, as he looked around his room. After a few more moments, he realized that he had been inside the medical room on board the large freighter. _It was only a nightmare_, he thought to himself, as he brought his hand over his face, wiping away the sweat that covered him. He rose, throwing the sheet away from him, and he threw on his shirt.

_Where's Atton and Visas?_ He wondered as he holstered his lightsabers and his blaster, throwing on his jacket. He walked into the main hold and looked around to see no one. _Where in the blazes could they be?_ He walked towards the cargo bay, hearing grunts from Visas and Atton, along with ringing metal.

_They didn't decide to kill each other while I was asleep did they?_ He raced towards the cargo bay, opening the door as he pulled out his lightsaber, only to stop.

Atton and Visas paused and looked at Dante, who now wore an embarrassed expression.

"Uh, sorry," he said, as he saw both of them covered in sweat, undoubtedly from sparring.

"We were wondering when you'd wake up," Atton said in between breaths, dressed in a white, sleeveless shirt, and his usual form-fitting trousers. His hair was matted with sweat and his shirt bore soaked parts. "You slept for so long that we grew bored and decided to spar," he shrugged in his carefree manner. He spun his two swords in his hands, as he breathed deeply.

Dante looked at Visas, who wore a velvet coloured blindfold over her eyes, covering underneath her short, dark brown hair. She was matted in sweat, but wore a grey shirt and form-fitting pants as well. She carried a double-sided sword—matching her style with her own lightsaber.

"Sorry," was the best he could manage as Atton chuckled. After another moment at his expense, Dante couldn't help but ask, "how long was I out?"

"Long enough for us to spar for several hours—and long enough to complete our trip," Atton answered, as a beeping rang out throughout the ship. "If you'll excuse me," he said, resting the two swords against a wall, patting Dante on the back as he left.

He looked at Visas, who now placed her sword on the rack at the other end of the room.

"I felt a disturbance in the Force," she said after a moment. "I was wondering if you are all right."

Dante sat down on a bench near the rack. "Actually, I had a disturbing vision—or dream," he said.

Visas came and sat down, rubbing her hands again, almost as if she attempted to remember the way his hands had felt when they touched hers.

"I saw an old enemy—a dead one—injure and torture Rena. I wonder about her, but I am not sure if she is all right. I feel my bond with her weaken, as I woke up. I do not know how she is," he said sadly. "I felt a great loss in the Force that made me grow tired, which is why I probably lost consciousness." After another moment of silence, Dante looked at Visas. "How could you have felt the disturbances flow from me?"

She looked at him and she replied, "I am strong in the Force, but it would have taken a mere adept to not notice the waves of strong emotions that came from you as you slept."

Dante merely nodded in understanding.

"_We'll be arriving on Coruscant in a few moments_," Atton's voice said, as it came over the ship's internal communications.

"Well, I guess I better let you go change your clothes," Dante said, as he rose.

"Wait," Visas began uncharacteristically, "I, uh, wanted to show you something."

The Jedi furrowed his brow. "What is it you would like to show me?"

She bit the corner of her lower lip, bathing the crimson of it with the gleam of her white teeth. "I rebuilt my lightsaber—look," she said, as she removed it from its holster on the back of her hip. The silver glint of the hilt appeared to be brand new, as was its subtle intricate designs that reflected her own persona—the _real_ Visas within.

Impressed, Dante moved towards her, watching the newly brandished and complete blade. "Wow," he mustered, as he touched its grip, rotating the double-sided hilt around his hand, feeling its perfect balance. "Exceptionally balanced too—I am sure it will be a great extension of yourself," he said, smiling amicably.

"Look," she said, as she took the blade back in her hand and took a step away. She ignited the blade, lighting both sides not in scarlet, but in a pale glow of _silver_.

Dante's eyes lit with wonder, as he watched her twirl her lightsaber before she thumbed the activation plate off, sending the silver shafts of energy into the hilt. "Very impressive," he commented, smiling wildly.

"I received the crystal as a gift from my mentor," she said, lowering her head.

"Nihilus?"

"No, _Theresa_." She holstered the blade and looked up at Dante. "She taught me to look within myself and to tap into the strength I always had. She showed me the way of the Force in a manner I had never thought possible."

Dante smiled, resting a hand on her shoulder. "You've always been strong Visas, and I hope that one day you will teach me how to look deep within myself and unleash the true strength within."

She smiled back, resting her hand on his that rested on her shoulder.

After a moment of comfortable and pensive silence between the two—and feeling a little flustered—, Dante removed his perched hand and began to turn around to leave.

"Dante, there is something I wish to tell you," she said, startling the young man.

"What is it?"

_What have I just done?_ She appeared apprehensive, and immediately regretted what she was going to say to him, but she had to. It was the only way to reveal how she felt. "I've never told anyone this before, but," she brought her hands to her chest, between her breasts as she felt her heart beating, "I have a great respect for you."

"And I have a great respect for you," Dante said, not quite sure where she was going with this.

"You have shown me a strength I thought I had never possessed. I find my thoughts turn to you when I least suspect it and I know now what the Force asks of me. I would die for you," she said softly, knowing full well that he didn't understand what she meant. "You've brought me a measure of peace and new meaning to my life. I love you," she declared, as she leaned in, raising her chin slightly and softly pressed her lips to his.

Caught off guard, Dante felt her soft moist lips touch his dry lips, and he felt her lean in towards him. He closed his eyes and almost embraced it, remembering the feel of someone so close to him, as he tasted her lips. Lost in the moment, his mind suddenly turned to the thoughts of others who he had once loved—others who had died for him. _Rin, Jade—I will not add you to this list Visas, I dare not._

She moaned softly as her lips continued to dance with his, embracing his body.

He opened his eyes and pulled away, causing her to stop and bring her hands to her mouth in shock. "I'm sorry, Visas," he said, looking at the ground in shame. "I-I can't reciprocate. I can't love you." His gaze rose, as he looked at her veil, knowing full well that he would have looked at her eyeless sockets regardless. "Everyone I've ever loved has died—by my hands or the hands of those who sought to do harm. If I love you—if I embrace whatever I could feel for you, I will only cause you more pain."

She looked at him and lowered her gaze, knowing full well that this was what she had expected. She felt a wave of regret pass from the Jedi, knowing that some part of him—a part he had buried deep within himself—desperately wanted to reciprocate. It made her feel all the more hurt knowing that even though he wanted to reciprocate and couldn't, his tone was sincere. A sudden thought occurred._ Did he see the vision?_ Her heart skipped a beat as she felt herself tense, but suddenly relax. If he had known, Dante would have done everything in his power to stop the vision from occurring. Maybe it was destined to be this way, but only the Force would truly show her.

"I am sorry Visas, more than you can possibly know," he said, taking her hands in his.

As she opened her mouth to say something, Atton's voice spoke again, interrupting her.

"_You guys better get up here. Something has happened to the Jedi Temple._"

The pair made their way to the cockpit, only to watch plumes of smoke around the Temple.

"What happened?" Dante asked, as they all stared in awe and horror at the destruction.

"I don't know, but it definitely reeks of a Sith assault," Atton said, his voice wavering slightly.

"Put us down," Dante ordered, "we need to see if they need any help."

"Will do," Atton said, as he tapped a few keys, and the ship shuddered slightly. He unbuckled himself and left the seat. "Let's go," he said, "if they're going to need help, they'll need the three of us and this behemoth."

Dante followed Atton to the ramp, and raced out of the ship, as two Republic soldiers moved to stop him. "We're Jedi Knights," he called out, passing the pair, as he raced into the Temple.

He paused as he witnessed the bodies that lay throughout the hallway. He looked around the chambers, looking for the signs of the Jedi Masters, hoping they weren't on the ground, along with the Dark Jedi.

Soldiers and Medics moved through the Temple, dragging bodies and tending to their wounded.

The Temple reeked of death.

His thoughts turned to Rena, as he raced into an adjoining hallway that led to her room.

"Dante!" A voice called out, causing the Jedi to halt and face it. The figure that walked towards him was Cyrin Jace, covered in slightly tattered robes.

"What happened?" Dante asked, as he moved towards the Master.

"The Sith somehow managed to get inside. They attacked us—killed a few of the Padawans and Younglings. We lost a few of the Masters."

Dante's heart skipped a beat as he looked to the ground, unable to comprehend how the Sith managed to enter the Temple and begin their assault.

"How?"

"They used charges on the doorway," Cyrin replied softly. "Come," he said, his arm gesturing towards the remnants of the Jedi Order. "We have much to discuss."

Dante walked with the Jedi Master, followed by Visas and Atton, who looked unsure of what would happen next. He turned to his right and saw Ash sitting beside the body of Tarn, and the Jedi felt his throat constrict as he saw his friend lying there, gone, while Ash's expression was somber and empty.

"Dante," Cyrin said, "I believe you already know Master Shan, her apprentice Dustil Onasi, and of course, Master Vandar."

"Master Vandar," Dante breathed, as he was surprised to see the small diminutive figure hobbled over to him and greet him.

"Greetings, Master Ravenmoon," the wizened Master said, "good it is, to see you."

The young Jedi nodded in acknowledgement. He turned, facing Visas and Atton. "Allow me to introduce you to Visas Marr and Atton Rand."

They nodded or bowed acknowledgment.

"As I said," Cyrin began, "we have much to discuss."

The others looked at the bald Master, listening attentively as he began to speak.

"The Sith assault has claimed the lives of the Masters and Padawans, but we still have much left to rebuild. With the help of Forn Dodonna, we were able to stem the tide and prevent the Sith from destroying everyone. Unfortunately, as I said, the incursion claimed the lives of Masters Vizta, Ze, and Seethes. At this point, we are at a loss as to who has been behind these attacks."

"I think I can shed some light on that, Master Jace," Dante replied, as he removed a datapad and handed it to them. "As it turns out, Atris has been behind all of this. She has become the new Darth Traya—and along with several Senators, Director Gran'gerst and a Republic General, they have been responsible for the deaths and the reformation of the Sith Empire. Consequently, Traya has also been behind the dissolution of the Republic."

This caused several stares as they listened to Dante explain.

He breathed in deeply. _This is only going to get worse before it gets better_. "The facility where Director Gran'gerst has been conspiring with the other members, was a developmental facility for the creation of cloned Dark Jedi. On some perverse view, they thought they were creating a group loyal only to the Republic, however, they were only making matters easier with Traya and her Sith."

"Wait," Bastila interrupted, "you said that they were _cloning_ Dark Jedi. Who is the host?"

Dante sighed. "It's all on the datapad, but the person who was the genetic template is someone we all know. Revan."

Bastila brought a hand to her mouth and Cyrin looked to the ground, as the others muttered and cursed in shock.

"He didn't do it willingly, did he?" Forn, who was covered in dirt and soot, asked him.

Dante shook his head. "No, from what I've gathered, the DNA of Revan's was of when he was younger—and I am sure he never knew this. There is more," he said, gathering the others' attention. "They had successfully created some clones from their first batch. They had gone through with several failures except for a handful that performed admirably. Some of you would recognize them as a pair of assassins working for Traya; a powerful, yet blind Sith with vocal and ocular prosthetics, and finally," he looked at the ground in shame, "my Apprentice, Rena Naver."

"How can that be? Surely we would have recognized them as Revan!" Bastila said, her mind reeling with the thought of countless evil Revans bent on destroying the Galaxy. Her heart twisting as she thought of her husband leading the army or worse—giving his DNA freely to create the dark army.

"That was the problem. They all had minute differences from Revan. Biologically speaking, they had their own independent traits, which is why Rena came to be a female as opposed to a male, like the others." The Jedi appeared tired and he handed Forn the datapad. "Here you are, ma'am, I think you better prepare for another war."

After several moments, the group grew silent with grim awareness of what would happen if an army of Revan was unleashed. Despite the fact that the facility had been destroyed, several clones had undoubtedly been in circulation—posing as either Sith or Jedi. As Deus or Rena.

Cyrin left the group, heading towards Ash, knowing full well that the Master was crushed with the loss of Tarn. Sitting beside his best friend, Cyrin could only exhale as he turned to Ash.

"Funny isn't it?" Ash began. "I spent all those years keeping the secret that I was his father, only to watch him die in front of me. I thought I could keep him safe—stay on Coruscant and not participate in anything. But I was wrong."

"You did all you could, Ash," Cyrin said, "there was no telling that the Sith would have attacked us so quickly. We've all lost someone dear to us. I am sorry it had to be your son."

"Yeah," he replied, his voice bitter, "I am sorry too. I should have told him—I _could_ have told him. He didn't know his mother and I thought I could keep him safe if he were with me without really knowing who I was."

"But you didn't tell him. Instead, you took him under as your Apprentice, you trained him and watched him grow. You spent time with him and you two grew in your relationship. He would have sacrificed himself for you, just as I know you would have done the same."

"Perhaps, Cyrin," Ash sighed, "but I am too tired of this. I've lost too much—_we've_ lost too much. I don't know what else is out there for me."

Cyrin looked at Ash sincerely. "Don't give up; Tarn would want you to continue on stronger than ever. You and I both know that. We'll find a way to end the Sith, once and for all," Cyrin swore.

"I'll make them pay," Ash said. "After Atris is gone, I am going to retire."

Cyrin nodded. "You deserved more than this, my friend."

Ash looked at him, smiling softly as he draped an arm over his long-time friend. "It seems that we both deserved a lot more than we got, old friend."

Cyrin smiled and before he could say anything, he saw young Febe—whom he thought was missing—race across the hallway, running towards Dante.

"Master Ravenmoon!" She called out, as she ran towards him. "They took her! They took her!"

"Whoa, calm down," he said to the young girl, kneeling as he held her by the shoulders, "who took who?"

"Rena," she said, breathing heavily. "The Lotus and the big scary man with no eyes took her!"

_No, it can't be_. He looked intently at the young girl. "Where did they go?"

"I don't know, Master, but they hurt her."

He saw the panic in her face and the fear in her eyes. He clenched his jaw as he fought down the tide of rage that continued to rise within him, almost as if it were seeking to overflow him. He let her go and turned to face Bastila. "Take care of Febe, I'm going for Rena."

"Dante," Jolee said, "take care of yourself—she's a wily one, but she needs you. Don't do anything I would do—on second thought, don't do anything stupid."

Dante merely nodded. "When this is done, we've got some catching up to do."

"Over a cup of Juma Juice, my treat," the older man replied.

"Wait," Bastila managed, only to watch Dante turn around and run through the doorway, as Atton and Visas followed closely. She looked at Jolee and scowled at the older man, who merely shrugged.

"Atton," Dante said, "I need you to help pilot the ship—I need to locate her presence through the Force."

"No problem," he said, not wanting to argue with the Jedi, as he saw the untapped rage that threatened to pour out of him.

_Why does everyone I ever care about get hurt in some way?_ He gritted his teeth, as he raced towards the freighter.

"How can you hope to find her in a populated planet such as this?" Visas asked, as she kept up with the two men.

"I have a bond with her—I'll find a way," Dante replied as his thoughts had turned to Rena. _I won't let you fall—I'll be there for you. I'm coming, Rena, just hold on! _

As the engines began to whine and the freighter lifted off, Dante closed his eyes, feeling for her through the Force, as he felt her presence speeding away across a silver streak. _The tram!_ He opened his eyes and he looked at Atton. "Go to the tram—look for a railway or something nearby. She'll be there."

"Pure Pazaak," he replied as he brought the freighter around the Temple, moving towards a line of railways that weaved throughout most of the planet. The trouble to him was, which one had the girl?

Closing his eyes, Dante continued to guide Atton through the city, as he felt the surge of the bond growing stronger as he neared her. "Almost there," he said, as his fingers shifted across the navigational computer, keying in several coordinates. He felt the subtle gyrations of the Force and rougher shifts, as he felt the presence of not one, but three forms, all of which were familiar, but only one of them were different from the other two. "There!" He said, opening his eyes as they saw a tram that continued to move rapidly along.

At the top of the silver streaked train were three dark figures, one of them slung across the shoulders of a larger figure that was moving away from the other one.

Dante looked at Atton. "Lower the ramp, and get us near that train! I am going to jump down on it and get her!"

"You've got to be crazy!" He replied, as he pulled the freighter towards the moving train. "What happens if you slip?"

Dante smiled, "then I'll trust your piloting skills to save me again."

"You're putting too much faith in me," Atton said. "I never told you—but I've had my share of crashes."

"So I've been told," he replied.

"What? How?"

"I'll buy you a drink and tell you all about it once this is over," Dante said.

"You're on, pal," the scoundrel replied, as he brought the freighter closer, almost as if it were hovering.

Dante raced to the back, pausing to look at Visas.

"Be careful," she whispered.

"I will," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "For good luck," he answered, smiling as he leapt out of the freighter and rolled onto the surface of the train.

"Be careful," she whispered again.

As he rose, he managed to slowly move towards the trio as the wind blew his hair and his coat back. He pulled out his trusty lightsaber and ignited it, catching the attention of the two Dark Jedi.

Both of the Dark Jedi looked up to face him. One of them was the Beta known as Deus, carrying the unconscious figure of Rena, while the other one was a much more familiar face to the Jedi Knight.

"No, it can't be," he managed in shock as he saw those mismatched eyes and sadistic, yet playful smile greet him.

"Hello Dante," Lotus said, smiling amorously, "did you miss me?"

* * *

**Author's Note: Yeah, I bet you're hating Dante right about now. I know I was when I wrote it. Up next, we see how Dante and Lotus reminisce.**


	34. Getting Reacquainted

_Getting Reacquainted _

"You're alive," Dante said bitterly, as the air blew wildly around him and Lotus.

She shrugged, smiling, "what? You expected otherwise?"

"The last time we met, I sent you down to the bottom of that hole in that forsaken planet," he hissed.

"Yes, well, let's forget that whole incident," she replied, shrugging it off easily.

He ignored the rage that coursed through his tensed body, as he eyed her warily. It took everything in him not to cut her down where she stood. He noticed Deus and Rena had gone missing. "Where's Rena?"

Lotus sniggered, "always straight to the point—I always liked that in you."

"Where is she," he repeated, adamant. He cursed inwardly, as he realized his eyes were solely on her, which ostensibly led to Deus running away with Rena.

Lotus pouted. "I see that you don't want to reminisce."

"I won't repeat myself again, Lotus," Dante warned, as his eyes narrowed, becoming rancorous slits.

"She's bonding with her brother," Lotus said. "I figured it would be wise to spend some time away, from the kids; you know, just you and I," she smiled.

"I want her back," Dante replied.

"I'm afraid my superiors won't like that," she said evenly. "They've gone to great length to obtain one such as her."

"What about the others?"

"Failures," she replied.

"I know who your Master is—I know whom you are working for," Dante said, hoping to catch her off-balance.

"Traya?" She asked, causing Dante's mien to grow shadowy. She shook her head. "No, Traya is merely a pawn—just like the rest."

He gritted his teeth. Things were far more complex than he had originally thought. "So _whom _do you work for?"

"You already know," she said, smiling. "Your friend angers my Masters greatly," she pouted, "and after all the things they've done for him."

Dante's senses perked up when he heard her remark. _Seems he's got them at a disadvantage after all_, Dante grinned. "Revan will do what he does best: beat you into submission."

"So they say," she replied uninterested. "But I've got my eyes on you."

"Give her back to me, Lotus—you won't take her with you," he warned. He brought his thrumming sapphire blade up.

"We don't have to fight," Lotus said, "you can come with me—you can have Rena and everything you've ever imagined!"

"I don't bow down to anyone—especially to the _Sith_," he replied determinedly.

Lotus sighed, removing both of her lightsabers from either side of her hips. "Very well," she said reluctantly, "I'll just have to follow your friend's advice: beat you into submission. Maybe then you'll see reason."

Dante's grip tightened on his lightsaber. _This is for you, Rin_, he thought, as he said, "let's end this, once and for all."

She ignited her blades and said, "I don't know what I ever did to wrong you."

This caught the Jedi off balance.

Lotus struck.

* * *

They had entered one of the cars in the train—an empty one as it turned out. The lights flickered slightly, adding to the macabre feeling of the situation in its entirety. Deus stood facing her, as Rena was lying uncomfortably on one of the sets of seats.

"Why do you resist against us, sister?" Deus said, as he eyed her curiously, clad in her white robes and the stun-cuffs that he fitted on her just moments before they entered the car.

She looked at him, surprised. "Are you kidding me? Were you awake when they did those _things_ to us?"

Deus merely nodded.

"They were cruel—especially when they pit us against one another. I felt the pain of all of them whenever one of us killed _them_."

"As did I—as did the rest of us," he replied. "Why did you leave us?"

She shook her head, laughing mirthlessly. "I left because I couldn't take the pain they were inflicting on us. I left because of the thoughts that ran in all of our heads. I _left_ when they killed Diara for a single misstep in our training."

Deus was silent, almost as if he were deep in thought, attempting to comprehend what she was saying.

"You don't know what it is like to completely bond to a twin—and what that feels like when they're tortured to death." Rena's eyes began to slowly form tears, as she felt the phantom pains that ran across her back and arms. "I left because I knew what they were doing—I was the only one who sparked any awareness. The others were just like you—merciless killing machines, bereft of any human emotion."

"I know what it is to be blind and mute," he said, hoping that would garner any understanding between the both of them. He was silent for a moment longer. "So you joined the Jedi Order because of their compassion?" He asked sharply, attempting to understand her.

She chuckled once more, replying, "no—it was blind luck that I ran into a Jedi when I escaped."

"He became your Master," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," she answered, her thoughts taking her back to the first time she met him. "He is a good man, someone who I hope to have with me for the rest of my life."

Deus tilted his head, almost as if he were a pup who didn't quite understand what she meant.

"Nevermind," she said, as she looked at her lightsaber on his hip.

"He will come to an end soon enough," Deus replied. "The Mistress and the others shall soon have you. You and I will complete our function."

"My Master will stop this—he has a habit of destroying things before they ever come to fruition," she replied defiantly, allowing herself to smile for a brief moment.

"He will soon come to an end."

"What about our 'father?' He will inevitably face us and even if I were to fall and join you—which is not bloody likely—, he'd defeat us."

Deus let out a mechanical laughter, as he shook his head in disbelief. "The 'father' won't survive against me. I am far more powerful than him," he said, tilting his head once more, "or can you not feel my power in the Force?"

She could only sigh. "I don't think you'll ever understand," she replied sadly, causing Deus to look at her inquisitively. _Master, please, hurry—I don't want to become one of them._

* * *

Lotus slashed at him horizontally, causing the Jedi to block with his blue blade facing the metallic rooftop of the car they were fighting on, as the buildings rushed by them in a blur.

Dante leapt back, slashing around as he continued to give ground against her relentless assault. _She's grown more powerful—I'll give her that_, he thought bitterly as he parried her thrust, forcing himself to deflect her second blade that came veering towards his throat.

"What's the matter, Dante?" She asked, as she lowered her stance to that of a predator waiting to pounce on its prey. "Worried?"

He bit back the rage that was slowly eating away at him. _I won't give in_, he struggled, as he was forced to deflect her blades that crossed and slashed against his.

She spun about, bringing each of her blades to clash against the Jedi's, forcing him back as she laughed in glee at the chance of revealing her power. "This is why you should join me! Together—with your power and mine—we could crush the Sith Council!"

_Council?_ He grunted as he blocked both of her lightsabers that came flying towards his chest and waist. "I won't join you, face it."

All trace of joy on her face ceased to exist as she replied, "you will join me. If I had to kill that _alien_ to take you, you _will _come with me—one way or another."

Dante bit back a retort as he extended one hand, sending her flying back.

Lotus landed on her feet deftly, as her left blade was pointing behind her, while her right blade faced Dante. She smiled. "I can feel the rage within you—use it. Join me Dante and we can achieve limitless possibilities!"

"You should get a life and quit obsessing," he replied, slashing diagonally, as he spun about, whirring his blade to glance against one of her blades and then another in a series of blinding flashes.

"That _wench_ didn't deserve you! You were mine! She deserved to die!" Lotus spat, as she barely blocked his whirring blade.

"You killed her Lotus," he said in a low tone, "you took her away from me—and for that, you shall pay."

She giggled, "no I won't, Dante. You've only begun to realize the connection we have—the life, the love and the myriad of possibilities that are waiting for us."

"Us?" He asked, his face contorted in an expression of disgust. "There is no _us_. There never will be! You took everything that ever mattered to me! My Master, my Love—I will make you pay!" He screamed as he brought his lightsaber over his head, crashing against hers, as he spun about, driving his foot into her stomach—right beside the old wound he had given her so long ago.

She screamed and fell back, barely rolling away in time as the blue blade seared through the rooftop of the train. She pivoted her body and tried to sideswipe his legs, only to have him flip over her. She quickly rose and began to rotate, her blades meeting Dante's as he drove her closer towards the end of the car.

He spun, following her motion as he struck against her blades, willing himself to win and to crush her beneath his feet. He unleashed his anger, twirling his lightsaber all around him, effectively creating a barrier of sapphire energy that seemed impenetrable as it clashed against her faltering skills.

She thrust out with her left blade, slashing upwards, only to clash against his sapphire blade.

He slammed her right lightsaber away and thrust out towards her left hand, nicking the hilt and severing the emitter in the exact moment. He shoved his shoulder into her chest, sending her back.

She screamed as she was sent back and the air left her lungs for a moment. Her sight dizzied and she regained her vision in time, barely evading the blue blade that crashed into an antenna.

He brought his blade down again, missing her.

She whirled around him, struggling with all of her wavering resolve to defend against the vicious onslaught of the Jedi Knight before her.

He brought his lightsaber around his back and slashed horizontally as his blade arced around her blade. His eyes revealed a darker Dante, one who was far more powerful and hell-bent on killing her.

_He's too strong_, she gasped, as she felt his foot collide with her face.

He walked towards her, "you're going to die."

"Not yet," she said as she brought her lightsaber in front of her, upright, only to watch it fly away in halves.

He slashed the lightsaber away, knowing that she had hoped to block his next flurry of strikes. "Your cheap parlour-tricks are at an end."

She looked at him, fearing for her life. _What have I done? My sweetheart—don't, please don't._ "Wait," she said, bringing both of her hands out to stop him, "you don't want to kill me, do you? Think of your life as empty without me."

"My life will be far more fulfilled once you die," he replied coldly.

_No!_ She shoved her hands towards him, sending him flying back. With a flick of her wrists, her gauntlets revealed a pair of vibroblades.

As he rose, he eyed them carefully. It hardly mattered to Dante anyway, as he would soon ensure his lightsaber would be imbedded inside of her chest. _No,_ he thought, _I can think of far more terrible ways to cause her pain_.

"Don't do this, Dante," she warned, her voice quavering. "I-I don't want to hurt you."

"Is that fear I hear in your voice?" He asked her.

She shook her head fearfully, attempting to dissuade the Jedi's observation.

"I believe it is," he answered cryptically, a smile forming on his face.

"Don't," she said. "I will defend myself."

"Defend?" He laughed sinisterly. "You hate the Jedi way and seek to turn me and yet you say you are going to _defend_ yourself?" He lunged at her, causing her to block with her blades.

She continued to bring her blades up, as the metal rang against the deadly thrumming of the blade. She turned about and brought her right forearm up in time, as she saw the silver metal clash against the blue blade. She looked over the lightsaber and saw the worn handle, decorated in intricate designs she barely remembered. "No," she whispered, the sight of the hilt brought memories racing back to her. _The Twi'lek's blade!_

Dante turned around and extended his left leg, taking pleasure as it crashed against her shoulder.

She fell to the ground and rolled away, watching as the blue blade found itself driven into another roof. Suddenly, she felt a quick prick in the Force, as her sight turning towards a wave of a long, sleek craft that ran parallel to the train, decloaking and revealing a black, angular vessel. Help had arrived for Lotus Xa.

Dante brought the blade up and heard the electrical crackle of a ship decloaking, causing him to look at the massive ship behind Lotus.

She turned back and saw Dante's dark, determined expression.

"You won't run away from me this time," he threatened.

"I'm sorry Love—but another time and another place. I will have you soon," she said, smiling. "Until then, you have my blessings."

Dante suppressed a shudder. He slowly began to move towards the assassin, who now was moving towards the ship that had now moved towards the train.

The ship hovered over the pair, its engines whining as a ramp at the aft section began to open, revealing two figures completely clad in black.

"I won't let you take her away from me!" Dante screamed at them.

Lotus didn't know if he was talking about her or Rena, who was now being ushered towards the ramp by the larger and black clad Deus.

Dante moved towards Lotus, who turned to face him. Moving his hands in their respective directions, the gauntlets came flying off and away, leaving Lotus relatively defenceless.

She looked horrified, but she managed to leap on board the ship, narrowly missing the slash that came down at her. She looked at the two Sith that bore no affiliations with Traya or her motley crew of Sith and Dark Jedi. "Stop him," she said, knowing full well that even with their advanced training they were no match for the Jedi Knight.

Had she paid any attention to Dante's seemingly frantic—and desperate—movements, she would have noticed the small tracking device that had planted itself aboard the hull.

Deus looked at her curiously, and then moved along the ramp to see the Sith that jumped onto the tram to confront the Jedi. He was eager to watch the duel, and eventually he would learn all he could and then earn the lightsaber of the notorious Jedi Knight who had so frequently wrought havoc—or so his sister had said—with the plans of the Sith Lords.

Lotus didn't look back as she eyed Rena, whose expression was glazed. "Soon you shall be taken back to my Masters—and you shall bring me your Master and you shall bring _our _Masters the head of your father."

_No, Master,_ Rena fearfully managed in her mind. _Don't lose me…I'm sorry I never told you—please, come back to me. Stay safe.. find me.. I lo—_she managed as blinding pain burst across her face.

Lotus' expression grew furious at the glazed girl, aware that though she may have taken the prize that was Rena, Lotus hadn't come back with the prize she had waited for so long. Angry, she brought her leg out, as her foot slammed against Rena's face, rendering the poor Padawan unconscious.

_Soon Dante, very soon, you shall be mine_, she thought bitterly as she moved towards the cockpit. "Cloak us and take us back to our Masters—they'll be thrilled to know that everything is going according to plan."

Deus moved towards his sister and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him as he tended to the bloody nose and bruised cheek she had earned from the meager frustration of Lotus Xa. _I should make it a point to deal with her soon if she ever brings a hand against my sister again_, he thought, as he thought he heard her whimper from the pain she had earned. _Rest easy, sister, all shall be well soon._ He felt his hands tense momentarily at the thought of what the assassin did to Rena, but most of all, he found the sense of loyalty and compassion towards his sister most curious.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Ah the plot thickens. I'd like to take the timeand thank everyone who has reviewed this fic so far. I am thankful for the support, suggestions and everything that you've given me. I hope you continue to read this and the other fics that I've been working on and that you enjoy all of them as much as you enjoy this.**


	35. Battle of the Core

_Battle of the Core _

The silver lined planet shone like a beacon throughout the Galaxy, revealing the splendour and glory of the Republic and the Core in its entirety. It's name reached out towards the farthest stretches of space; inspiring hope in some, while greed and loathing inspired others. The planet had once been a symbol of a unified and peaceful era—and Galaxy. It was a sincere shame that the Republic had collapsed.

Erik Scrimshaw couldn't care less. He continued to look out at the planet and the massive fleet that orbited the city-planet. _The fools_, he thought, shaking his head in mock pity, _I cannot wait until Carth brings his fleet to bear on _mine_. I shall wipe him and the vestiges of the pitiful Republic away—and a new era shall come: the_ Sith.

He chuckled to himself, coughing softly as his voice rumbled hoarsely. Instinctively, his hand went to his throat, massaging it softly, remembering the gritty pain he had endured at the hands of the vile silver-haired hag Traya. _Stupid wench, she'll pay for this. Perhaps during the soon-to-be battle I shall make a slight miscalculation and destroy her precious Throne room. _His eyes twinkled with the thought as he ran his other hand through his short-cropped hair.

_Accidents _have _been known to happen_.

"Sir," one of his lieutenants called out, waking the General from his trance.

He smoothed his uniform and looked at the officer, slightly chagrined, "what?"

The officer swallowed audibly—the room had been silent, save for the minute beeps and switches—and replied, "we've just received an incoming transmission. 'Operation _Emancipation_' is a go."

It was Erik's turn to swallow audibly, as his saliva coursed roughly down his rather sensitive gullet. "Fine," he replied stiffly. "Have our _fighters_ prepare to launch."

The officer squared her shoulders and replied, "yes sir."

Another officer looked at the General, asking, "sir, I have several transmissions from the _Sojourn_, asking us to relay our commission to the Coruscant Assignment."

"Maintain silence," Erik replied. _They'll look at us like a confused kinrath pup—only to come eye-to-eye with the end of a barrel. And I've got the trigger,_ he thought haughtily. He looked at another officer—the one who had informed him of Traya's transmission. "Order our fleet to move in a picket position—but _do not_ let the Republic catch wind of our plan. Stand by all heavy cruisers to target the planetary shields and await orders. Ensure our carriers and our picket cruisers stand by, awaiting the destruction of the planetary shield pylons and skyhooks."

"Affirmative sir," the officer replied crisply.

"We'll ensnare their fighters and we'll begin to fire our heavy batteries into the planetary surface shortly before we engage the other Republic. What is the Mistress' ETA?"

"Fifteen minutes Standard, sir."

"Good," Erik mumbled, turning back to face the planetary surface. _Watch it all burn down, just like Telos._ _I wonder if Carth would like to relive his moments on Telos—it could prove most amusing._ He sighed. _Very well, I guess there is no time like the present. _"Fire."

* * *

"Has there been any reply yet?" Carth asked the officer, as he paced the bridge, uncomfortably.

"Not yet, sir," the officer replied.

_I don't like the feel of this,_ he thought. _Forn has stopped the Sith assault on the Temple and now my own troops are beginning to turn on me. What in the blazes is going on?_ He gritted his teeth, and stared out at the massive, concentrated group that seemed awfully close towards the planet's shield pylons.

"Sir," the same officer called out, a young Zabrak officer.

He furrowed his greying brow. "What is it?"

"_There is a list of traitors working with the Sith—one of your Generals is with them!_"

Carth's eyes opened widely, as his spine tingled and he felt cold. "Which one?"

"_General Scrimshaw!_"

_Oh no_. He looked at the officer. "Order the fleet to converge! Launch all fighters and inform Scrimshaw's battle group to stand down!"

It was too late.

As he spoke, several slow moving transports that passed along the glittering planet's atmosphere detonated in a brilliant array of yellow fireballs, as the heavy cruisers unleashed a wave of emerald, scarlet and sapphire destruction on the planetary shields and defences that surrounded them.

Carth saw thousands of dark specks flutter away from the cruisers, as they unleashed their own twin scarlet lances of energy.

They were small, agile, and sleek and carried a bulbous canopy, as their dark solar panels appeared like metallic bird-of-prey wings of sheer destruction.

"Sith fighters," someone whispered.

Carth felt the cold feeling around his spine consume his stomach, as he watched another Telos begin. "Oh no." On instinct, he turned around and screamed, "battle alert!"

Klaxons began to roar to life, as the bridge became darkened in flashing red glows.

"Launch all fighters and get all of our task forces to engage _those_ vessels!" He turned around and looked around as the crew moved about, taking his orders crisply. _This is not going to get better_, he thought.

The Sith would arrive in only five more minutes.

The Jedi had been battered and broken.

The Republic had dissolved and sedition had begun.

The Battle of the Core had begun.


	36. Those Who Fight

_Those Who Fight _

Dante sized up the pair, as they did the same to him.

They were all clad in black, hiding everything save for their eyes.

Dante's coat billowed, as the wind blew between them.

Somewhere, up above in the sky, lights flashed, highlighting the features of the three figures, as they stood silently, assessing their threat.

Only the sound of the train rushing through the districts of the city filled the howling wind that coursed around them.

The sounds of dim battle could be heard up above.

He could feel the raw power in the Force, as his eyes continued to shift towards the pair. In a flash, his free hand carried the bronze, bulbous blade of Alec. With a violent _snap-hiss_, the blade thrummed to life. He bit down the rage that continued to swell in him, threatening to burst, as his eyes averted to the sky, watching the dark, sleek vessel wink back into its cloak.

The figures began to approach him, wary at the Jedi. Unlike most of the Jedi, Dante was almost always on edge, thus giving into his anger and falling perilously close to the Dark Side. Sith lore dictates that only the strong may survive—and those that prove strong may eventually become the Master. Both Sith had no intention of being culled from their desires.

Not waiting a moment longer, Dante lunged at the pair, bringing both of his lightsabers up in a cross to block the simultaneous downward slashes of his would-be competitors. _You won't take her from me so easily,_ he thought as he pushed them back, rotating his body as his blades whirred around him, creating a blinding and lacerating energy barrier around him, as the crimson blades deflected so easily away from him.

One of the Sith leapt over the Jedi, thrusting out while the other slashed for the Jedi's chest.

Dante locked blades, his left hand angling the viridian blade to the metallic roof, while his right hand angled the sapphire blade to parallel to his chest.

In a blur, both Sith relinquished the lock and renewed their attacks, swinging in wild, yet precise, flurries, forcing the Jedi back.

The Jedi continued to swing his body around, arcing his blades to and fro, anticipating their movements. He thrust out with his viridian blade, while he goaded the other Sith to lock blades with his sapphire one.

Both Sith went into his attack, thrusting their blades at his, only to find it locked against one another.

Dante's blades swirled around them, as he guided both crimson blades to lock against one another, while his blades were on the outer edge. Throwing weight onto his left leg, he pivoted his weight and sent his heel colliding against the face of one Sith, while he brought both blades to bear on the lone Sith.

The lone Sith continued in his precise movements, twirling his own blade around him and deflecting each powerful strike the Jedi threw. He thrust out with his blade spinning around and following the viridian blade, only to successfully slash at the emitter and destroy the blade. Taking advantage of the situation, he summoned the Force around him and pivoted his body, planting his right foot against Dante's chest, sending the Jedi back.

Grunting, Dante flew back and back flipped, landing on the other car, crouched and Rin's blade in his right hand, in a backhand grip.

Both Sith joined together and began to assault Dante, arcing their blades around his body, forcing him to continue to block, as they circled him, crimson clashing against the cool azure blade.

Dante closed in, letting go of his anger and feel the Force guide his hand as he felt himself reach into himself, inching ever closer to his fulcrum. _I won't lose Rena!_ He slashed horizontally and smacked both blades into one another, as he extended his left palm, sending a wave of the Force crashing into the face of one of the unfortunate Sith.

The unfortunate Sith was sent flying off the train, and crashing into a pillar that held the track, falling to his eventual death, several hundred stories down.

"Congratulations," the other Sith said, "you've killed my competitor. Now it is only you and I. We shall see who is the _true_ Master."

"You don't stand a chance, _Sith_," he spat back, as his hair flailed wildly.

The Sith laughed and then let out a cry as he jumped in, swinging his lightsaber all around, leaving only trace blurs of where he once was.

Dante continued to parry off the strikes, looking for that moment of weakness that he could feel edging ever closer.

The Sith brought his lightsaber up in an overhead strike, somehow missing the Jedi as Dante strafed to the side and slashed in a full 360-degree.

The figure brought his lightsaber around in time to lock with the blade.

Dante felt himself tap into the deepest reaches of himself, going beyond all time and space—beyond even the furthest reaches of the Force in its entirety. He felt his hand being guided as he shoved his opponent away.

The Sith brought his lightsaber up. "So the game's afoot?'

"You're going down," Dante said, as he brought his lightsaber in a kata, moving his blade around his body as he slashed horizontally, then bring it back in a 180-degree backhand motion, followed by him gripping the pommel with both hands as he swung over his body and brought it down to bear on the crimson blade.

The Sith barely had time to react as he managed to block the first swipe, only to be pushed back and lose most of his grip during the second backslash. He brought the blade just over his head, blocking the lightsaber that came crashing down and forcing the Dark Jedi's knees to almost buckle under the pressure.

Groaning and weighing the blade down, Dante slowly mouthed, "almost there," as the lightsaber continued to inch lower and lower, towards his enemy's face.

"I won't be beaten by the likes of you, Jedi," the Sith spat, as he gritted his teeth and groaned as he continued to shove back.

Ignoring his foe's words, Dante continued to press down, until he felt his legs leave the ground.

Taking a risk, the Sith crouched and swiped Dante's feet from under him.

As his body hit the roof, he rolled away, hearing the sizzle, hissing and crackling burn of the Sith's lightsaber crashing against where he had been but moments earlier.

Dante quickly rose, bringing his blade in a backhand motion and deflecting the crimson blade that had appeared near his throat.

The Sith continued to bring his lightsaber towards Dante, spurring himself on as he craved the death of his enemy.

Dante arced both blades away from him, and smashed the pommel of his blade into the face of the Dark Jedi, sending him back.

They stood there, poised and not even panting, as they had both become one with the Force.

"What's your name?" The Sith asked after a moment.

Dante gritted his teeth. "What does it matter to you?"

The Sith chortled. "Well, I suppose it matters little, but in this day and age, one hardly finds an opponent worth his time—or effort."

Dante shrugged. "You tell me yours."

The Sith shrugged, removing his mask. "Fair enough. My name is Dorman Rais." His face was scarred slightly along his left eye; revealing a paler blue eye while the other was a deep, menacing brown. He had a regal nose, and his posture denoted him as an aristocrat—most likely from Serenno. His shorter, matted dark blond hair fluttered around in the wind, revealing the defined features of his relatively small face. Some would consider him somewhat handsome, if it weren't for the marred features on his face.

Dante smirked. "Dante Ravenmoon," he replied.

Dorman laughed again. "Interesting—we have the same initials. Seems the Force is not without a sense of irony."

"Perhaps," Dante replied, feeling less than a kindred understanding between he and his opponent; something that failed to go beyond their mere initials. "Well then, Dorman," Dante said at last, after a moment of sizing one another up, "shall we continue?"

Dorman bowed slightly. "It shall be my pleasure."

_Bloody aristocrats_, Dante thought sardonically.

_Bloody commoners_, Dorman thought cynically.

Both Jedi brought their lightsabers up and raced at one another.

Dante brought his swooping down, crashing against the scarlet blade, forcing the Jedi to move his blade back and strike towards Dorman's legs.

Dorman blocked both slashes and arced his lightsaber up, committing himself to making the same movements as Dante, only slashing at one another's chests.

Dante continued to parry, feeling almost as if the enemy was teasing him. He growled and brought his lightsaber all around him, slashing at Dorman's chest and legs in one blur, as he spun about, bringing the sapphire blade around his back as he slashed for the Dark Jedi's head again.

Dorman continued to block and parry each strike with much effort, aware that the slightest mistake could cost his life. He thrust out, forcing Dante to strafe backwards. Taking advantage of the moment, he extended his hand and sent the Jedi flying back with a casual Force-shove.

Falling back, Dante rose once more to see the scarlet blade come flying high above him.

Dorman jumped high into the air, as the train continued to race through the city, and he brought his weapon bearing down towards Dante. "I'm going to finish this!" He screamed, only to find the lightsaber driven into the panel where his quarry had been but a mere moment before.

Dante rolled away and extended his foot, sending Dorman flying back. With a flick of his wrist, Dante severed the hilt of the lightsaber that was still imbedded within the train.

Dorman rose and looked in fear, as a dark expression formed across his face, soon replacing any surprise.

"You lose," Dante hissed.

"No!" The Sith brought both of his hands to face Dante, and the crackling swirl of lightning flew forth, singeing the Sith's fingers, but flying straight towards Dante, who was slightly slow to react.

His lightsaber managed to block and absorb the lightsaber, only to flicker once and twice, as the emitter tore off. _No!_ His eyes went wide as he watched his last link with the woman of his past leave him. "No!" He screamed as he was sent back with a burst of the blue lightning.

Dorman laughed, obviously believing he had gained the upper hand, as he moved closer and extended his hand again.

Dante moved swiftly, closing the serene feeling of the Force and channeling all of his rage and anger into killing the Sith, as he rolled away and rose, bringing both of his hands out to clutch the Force lightning in the center of his palms.

Dorman growled as he poured his strength and determination to win against the Jedi into his attack, hoping to force the Jedi to relent and die.

Of course, he didn't know Dante.

Dante gritted his teeth and with a feral growl, he shoved back with the Force, moving closer towards the Dark Jedi, who was moving towards Dante.

Both of them continued to groan and scream as they continued pouring their rage and determination into their stalemate, inching closer.

"I…won't…lose!" Dorman screamed hysterically, as they locked eyes with one another and the lightning flared all around them.

"I will make you _pay_!" Dante hissed as the thoughts of Rin's death, Alec's death, Xavier and Nathaniel's death—the thought of losing everyone he had ever cared about—poured into his mind, as he expelled it into his rage.

Dorman continued to struggle, his narrow eyes going wide in complete horror as he watched Dante slowly gaining more ground.

Dante continued to move, as he brought ends of his palms together, channeling the Force into him as massive blue orbs of energy formed around his hands, which were beginning to slowly burn the gloves he wore.

Dorman watched on in horror as he realized that he had only been giving the Jedi a means of crushing him then and there.

Dante's eyes narrowed and he let out a final scream as he shoved with all of his might, sending the massive ray of blue energy back towards Dorman.

Both Jedi flew back in their respective directions, as a blue shockwave overcame the pair.

Dante was shoved back immensely, hearing only the pitch and whine of engines behind him before he found the inviting warmth of darkness.

Dorman, however, felt searing heat burn through his armour and undergarments, shearing through his shoulders, as he smelled the sickly sweet scent of burnt flesh all over his body. He couldn't scream, overwhelmed with the intensity of pain as he crashed into another car—one that carried cargo, burying him in a mass of fallen plasteel containers. He lay there, covered in burns and containers, too weak to move—to even moan—, as he felt himself losing consciousness. _How could I lose? Bloody Jedi…the plan will go on…and I shall find my way to you… I _will _destroy you, Dante Ravenmoon_, he swore, _if it is the last thing I do_. He knew only darkness afterwards.

* * *

Bastila looked at Jolee, frowning as he merely returned a shrug. "You know, you shouldn't have sent him running like that. What if he is in danger?" 

"He'll be fine," the older man replied, with a casual wave of his hand. "He's gotten a lot stronger since before."

Bastila furrowed her brow, her mind still reeling from the thought of cloned Sith Revans, all of them eager to destroy everything _her_ Revan had worked so hard to rebuild before his disappearance. "What do you mean?"

Jolee shrugged, "ah, we've all survived the wars at some price. The boy's still not quite over it yet. He lost someone close." Jolee's shoulders sagged, his face appearing somehow weary and much more worn. "I can see it in his eyes. He's holding onto his Apprentice—clone of Revan or not."

Bastila's countenance grew irate. "She's an aberration of the Living Force. She must be destroyed."

Jolee scoffed, "would you really do that? She's strong—pure of the Light and all that can be said of it." He shook his head, "no, Bastila. Whether or not she is an abnormality of the Living Force depends on what the Force wills of her. In case you haven't noticed, Dante's fate is also entwined with her own. You kill her, you'll be killing your own friend."

Before Bastila could retort, Forn interrupted as she raced towards the pair.

"Coruscant's under attack!"

"We need to go," Jolee muttered. He turned to face the crestfallen Masters sitting at the far corner of the vestibule. "Cyrin, Ash—we need to go _now_."

"What's going on?" Cyrin asked, as he brought his hands across his chest.

"Coruscant's being assaulted by the Sith!"

"Why couldn't we feel it?" Bastila asked, looked at Cyrin and Jolee.

"The Dark Side clouds everything," Vandar answered, hobbling over to the group.

"There are too few of us to do anything," Dustil said, gritting his teeth.

"You're wrong," came another voice, forcing everyone to turn and face the figure.

Atton Rand and Visas Marr entered the chambers.

"We will lend whatever aid you require," Visas said, bowing in front of the Jedi Masters—and nudging Atton to do likewise.

"Where's Dante? And what do you propose we do?" Cyrin asked, as a loud crash resounded throughout the planet.

The planetary shields had failed, and the Sith had begun their bombardment.

"He's unconscious for now, he's resting in the ship's medbay," Visas said, with some regret. She remembered picking up his injured and somewhat scorched body. He hadn't said a single word, except for calling out one name: Rin.

"Well whatever it is, we need to do it fast," Atton said, looking over towards the diminutive Master.

Vandar closed his eyes for a moment, before he opened them. "Right, this Padawan is. Act quickly we must—destroy the Sith we must."

"Then it's settled," Jolee said. "We'll need to divide up into groups," he paused, turning to face Cyrin and Ash, "I trust the Temple still has a few ships in its hangar?"

The hard-as-nails Master nodded.

Ash remained silent.

"All right," Jolee began, not waiting for anything else. "Bastila, Dustil, and Visas will go to the Republic flagship. We'll let Bastila aid in her Battle Meditation. Frreral, the Kid and I will go infiltrate the enemy flagship—,"

"It's not that easy," Forn said. "There is a Republic battle group that is assaulting Carth's fleet."

"What?" Bastila's face was contorted in an expression of confusion.

"The Sith have managed to sow the seeds of dissent within the ranks," Cyrin noted.

Jolee could only grunt.

"Well, that makes things a bit complicated," Atton chimed in. "Come on, old man, we can still do this—unless you're scared now?"

Jolee cast a glance at the younger man, "I've been in worse situations since before your father was in diapers, kid. This just means that we've run into some complications."

"It gets worse," Forn added.

"What do you mean 'worse?'" Jolee asked, exasperated.

"The Sith arrived only a few moments ago—their flagship is the _Leviathan_."

"The _Leviathan_? I thought it was destroyed during the Starforge!" Bastila exclaimed. She clenched her round jaw, turning her gentle features into something a bit harder.

"Seems the Force isn't even willing to cut an old man a break," Jolee muttered, shaking his head.

"Well, what's the plan?" Atton asked. "Are we going to sit here like a herd of Banthas to the slaughter or are we going to do something about this?"

"Pipe down, kid," Jolee said, rubbing his temples, "you're giving me a headache with that noise coming from your mouth."

Atton only glared at the old man, amused at his candor.

"All right," Jolee began, "Visas, Frreral and I will go infiltrate the enemy Republic flagship."

Visas only nodded, while Frreral growled in agreement.

"Bastila will stay aboard the Republic flagship along with the Kid and Onasi's kid," Jolee added.

Bastila nodded curtly, along with Dustil while Atton opened his mouth to say something, only to be nudged by Visas.

"Ash, Cyrin and Vandar will stay here and monitor the ground troops—and ensure that the Younglings are safely kept somewhere."

"I'll have my guard take them to the Chancellor's bunker," Forn said.

Jolee nodded.

"But what about the _Leviathan_?" Atton asked, pointing out the fatal flaw in their plan.

"Trust me kid, that's better left untouched." Jolee couldn't suppress his shudder.

Bastila's eyes looked at the floor, remembering her fateful encounter there. Revan had learned the truth of who he really was, Bastila had temporarily sacrificed herself to save Revan and Malak inevitably turn her to the Dark Side. She suppressed her own shudder at the thought of the terrible memories that accompanied that dark foul place. She couldn't understand why it had survived.

"That's what we have Bastila's Battle Meditation for," Jolee continued, turning to face Bastila. "You still know how to do it, right?"

She cast a sour look at him.

"Just asking," he said, raising his hands in a non-threatening gesture. He faced Atton and said, "while she's busy helping aid the Republic fleet, she will undoubtedly help destroy the _Leviathan_ while the others are busy fighting against the Sith. She'll bolster us, kid, give an old man a break."

Atton shook his head, breathing deeply and exhaling.

Moments after they had spoken, Ash, Forn, Cyrin and Vandar left to rally the Coruscant ground troops, while two distinct _Jedi_ vessels flew high up into the glittering night sky.

On board the Jedi support ship, Jolee was piloting, while Visas and Frreral sat comfortably, tapping away several switches and panels.

"You've flown one of these things before?" Frreral asked, surprised at Jolee's ability to pilot the small infiltrator.

"I've been flying before you were born, my hairy friend," Jolee replied.

"So how did you end up on Kashyyyk?"

Jolee shrugged nonchalantly, "I crashed."

Moments after, the sound of Visas and Frreral strapping on their crash webbing could be heard.

Jolee could only chuckle.

* * *

**Author's Notes: well, there you have it; Dante made a new enemy and the Gang is ready to lend their aid to the Battle of Coruscant, KOTOR style. Up next, we see Atris and her motives behind her full-fledged Sith allegiance. The focus is now shifting towards the main characters we all know and love, while Dante takes a bit of a backseat. On that note, I have some bad news: I told you all that I had finished _Catharsis _and that I was running through some editing and then posting them at certain intervals. Unfortunately, I won't be able to do that anymore--or until I find a backup-- because my hard drive is dead, taking all my info and stories with it. So that means I might have to rewrite the ending to _Catharsis_, which spans several longer chapters. I hope that you all can bear with me until I either find (a) a complete backup or (b) an incomplete backup so I can get to rewriting the ending. Thanks for the support I've been receiving and I am sorry for any, if at all, inconvenience. **


	37. Claim of Ownership

_Claim of Ownership _

They came at their surprised victims like a swarm of black locusts, eager to devour and consume their prey in a torrent of crimson energy.

The Republic fleet continued to hammer out energy at their opponents, successfully claiming a few kills as few sparse tufts of flame ignited all around the scene.

The sad truth of it all, however, was that for every one Sith fighter eliminated, three more took its place.

The Republic was hard-pressed to keep up the assault, as their numbers continued to whittle away at a constant pace.

Carth could only shake his head, hearing only the indistinct screams of pilots, as they were burned alive in their cockpits. The sounds of entire cruisers and frigates tearing apart at the bulkheads seemed to add to the cacophony of the battle that raged around his quickly battered fleet. _How did they get the drop on us?_ He couldn't help but wonder, as the _Sojourn_ shook and rattled with explosive fire that struck the oblong cruiser.

Several officers were sent flying back from their consoles, as the machines detonated in showers of sparks and explosions.

Carth bit his lower lip, running a shaking hand through his hair. Something wasn't right—this seemed _too_ coordinated and Erik's fleet appeared too well equipped. The handful of battleships had somehow gotten the drop on Carth's fleet, and now the Republic was being beaten into submission—rather brutally.

General Scrimshaw was doing insurmountable damage against the Republic, and only in a manner fitting of a true Sith.

"Order our picket ships back!" Carth ordered through gritted teeth. "I want all available squadrons to fall back to defensive positions—call any and _all_ available ships from Muscave and Stentate to aid us! I am not going to lose Coruscant—and we're _not_ going to have another Telos!"

Immediately, almost as if taking the challenge Carth presented, an explosion rang across the port side of the _Sojourn_, sending the ship tilting towards the starboard section. Only the bodies of those who had already been killed flew to the starboard, along with Carth, who was sadly standing as he barked his orders.

Rising—with the aid of two officers—, Carth rubbed his brow and noticed a dark red streak across his forearm. He had a cut on his forehead. _Great timing_, he thought bitterly.

"Sir!" One of his remaining officers on the bridge called out. "We have an incoming troop vessel hailing us—it's the Jedi!"

"About time," he muttered. "Tell them to dock and get to the bridge immediately! I want to see them!" The ship lurched again, almost as if it warned him not to take the Jedi aboard.

Before the officer to acknowledge, another blip occurred on the sensors of the Republic flagship. In fact, that blip had turned to several more that were growing rapidly. "Sir," the officer drawled, "we've got incoming!"

"Oh great," Carth said, putting a hand on the officer's shoulder. "Who do we have now?"

"Sith decanting from hyperspace, sir," the officer gulped.

Carth's face paled considerably. "We don't have enough numbers. This just keeps on getting worse."

"Sir," the officer said quietly, not sure how his superior officer would take this next warning.

Carth looked at the young woman.

"They're being led by the _Leviathan_."

* * *

Atris paced across the black floor of her bridge, fuming with rage towards Horn and Torn. "What do you mean that _she_ said I ordered you to kill Tamar!"

"She said that you had ordered her to kill the Senators, Mistress."

Atris turned to face Horn, her putrid breath hot on Horn's face. "And did she, _Horn_?"

The assassin shook his head.

"And where's your brother _Deus_?"

"He is not here, Mistress," Torn replied.

Atris was fuming and her dark, venomous eyes glared at the other assassin. "I can very well see that, _Torn_. Perhaps I should have had the lot of you killed on Corellia when I ordered that place to be destroyed! You're all failures! Every last one of you!" Her spittle flew across the assassin's face as she yelled. She turned around and continued to pace, her footsteps echoed throughout the throne room, joining in the hum of the warship's hyperdrive engines.

"Mistress," Horn began, only to be cut off by the daring and dangerous twinkle in Traya's eyes.

"Speak—I _dare_ you," she threatened.

Horn closed his mouth.

_It would be wise not to anger the Mistress further, brother_, Torn sent via telepathically.

_Agreed—but she does pose a wise question: where _is_ our brother?_

Torn had no answer.

"I thought so," Traya spat, completely oblivious to the telepathic conversation between the two. She brought a hand to her left temple, rubbing it in a circular pattern. "Leave me—I'll see to tying up the Senators."

Both of the assassins bowed, turned and left, eager not to cross her path again. The mere thought of their power was nothing compared to the fact that _she_ was the one who had them created. If she so willed it, they could be destroyed in a moment's notice. They were completely loyal to her, however, they found it most curious that Deus—seemingly having no will of his own—had disappeared, along with Lotus Xa.

Traya walked along the floor, as her eyes continued to shift towards the blue swirl of hyperspace. _How could they have been so foolish?_ She brought a hand up to her face, and with her index and thumb, she closed her eyes and rubbed them.

"They're nothing more than mere machines, my Lady," a warm, comforting voice whispered from the shadows.

"Machines would have carried out the order to the letter," she replied, feeling her anger dissipate greatly. "And need I remind you that the droids have an ability to adapt—unlike these _shadows_ of Revan."

The figure chuckled, his deep, palpable voice stirring some deep longing for companionship within her bosom. "Perhaps, my Lady, but nonetheless, you shall rectify their mistake—as you always do."

She allowed herself the briefest of smiles. "Perhaps," she replied, turning to face the shadow within the shadow. "But I still find good help trying in this day and age." She continued to peer through the shadows, seeing nothing—not even the glint of his warm, red, inviting eyes. "Where are you? Come out—I want to see your face."

"And so you shall, my Lady," the voice replied. The figure walked out, the slight jingle of his armour shaking, along with any of his buckles or plates. The figure was clad in black, revealing black shin pads and his formfitting breeches. The clothing on his torso, however, was much more unique. He wore a black tunic, revealing only armour from his left shoulder, stretching down to envelope his left arm and hand in black metallic gauntlets. It jingled ever so slightly, revealing that this was a light, durable and metallic material. His right side, however, carried no such trace of the armour; as it ended from the left shoulder and stretched down to cover his midsection. Instead, his right side was covered in the black tunic he wore underneath, revealing his black glove that covered his right hand.

Atris breathed in deeply, taken in his sight alluringly, as she had done so on more than one occasion.

His long, black, silky hair ran over his eyes, splitting into a peak on his left-most side, hiding much of the man. His features were not unhandsome; in fact, it made him all the more enticing to her. Somehow, he maintained a rich, exuberant and youthful countenance—something Atris found exceptionally enticing. Despite his square-shaped head and slightly more than medium build on his body, the one factor that he always kept shrouded in mystery was his eyes. Redder than a laigrek's eyes, they still retained the shape and form of normal eyes, revealing the iris, pupil and other traits associated with the eye.

Atris continued to take in the sight with more than keen interest. Her hand moving slowly to her breast, as she eyed him, it had been a _long_ time since anyone had made her feel this way. Loathe to admit it, Atris kept a deeper and darker secret for her hatred of the Exile—and it entailed something much more baser than thinking of Theresa Falcus as a mere _sister_. No, Atris felt more carnal desires in her beloved and tragic Exile. It was her desire that when Theresa tried to redeem the woman, that instead of calling the fallen Jedi her _sister_, the Exile would have called Atris her _beloved_.

That was why she found her hatred grow raw and felt it fester and burrow within her, almost as if it were nothing more than a malignant tumour—never to be removed from her. That was why Atris knew that it was Theresa's fault to pity her and spare her life.

That was why Atris turned her back on the Jedi and would only find peace and true happiness as she sought to dance in the embers of the Galaxy.

That was why Atris couldn't accept the fact that Mical felt the same way about the Exile—and that was why she had corrupted him.

That was why she continued to seek causing the Exile more pain and suffering as she burned the Galaxy, to forever imprint that the Exile had faltered in her moment of preventing the Galaxy's fall.

Kreia was right to open Atris' eyes. It showed the woman the futility in what she really sought—and it allowed her to exact an old teaching to the much-hated Exile: for every action, even slight and minuscule, there was a reaction—a consequence.

But the figure before her had helped her realize more of her potential—_more_ of the things she so desperately sought for. That was why she sought to burn the Galaxy. For him and for her—for ways to prove that while the rest of the Galaxy had turned its back on them, they would triumph in the end.

Her mind returned to the spectacle before her.

The figure bowed deeply, his long hair flowing away from his eyes as he acknowledged, "are you satisfied my Lady?"

His words made her body tingle.

He spoke in a coy, yet _teasing_ manner.

"Very," she replied, gasping for air wildly.

He rose and smiled, revealing a set of sharp teeth. "Good." He moved closer to her, wrapping his hands around her waist, causing her to breathe deeply, as he groped her body, and brought his lips close to hers. _It shall begin once more—we shall rise from the ashes and I shall take my rightful place again._ He had been there since the beginning of her journey and he would see hers end at his ascension. Once more, the Sith would purify the Galaxy, purging the Force and all life from the Light. Once more, catharsis would begin—and then _he_ would become a _God_. His vengeance would be complete.

She breathed in through her nose and pressed her thin lips to his small lips, tasting a sweet fragrance, along with the metallic tint of blood in his mouth.

He moaned slightly as he felt her hands move to caress his cheeks, while his continued to grope along her back, almost as if he were claiming her as his own. He enjoyed every bit of her—his prize—and he felt the kindling of his animalistic desires. He began to move one hand away, coursing it up her body to unloose her outer robe.

She moaned slightly, feeling the warmth of his hand wind its way around her body.

Before they could proceed, however, the beeping of the console rang.

She pulled away, gasping and groaning, as he paused, staring intently at her and feeling his fists clench tightly as he forced his deeper desires deep into the back of his mind once more.

She moved towards the console quickly, tapping the console and speaking in an dour manner, "what is it?"

"_Madam_," came the voice of her trusted, thought obstinate captain, "_we've arrived to Coruscant_."

"Deploy all fighters—and find out if General Scrimshaw has prepared Stage Four."

"_Yes, Mistress_," he replied, not aware of how lucky he had been to have been spared his life.

She looked up at him, knowing that he receded back into the darkness. "I am sorry—it shall have to wait another time," she purred.

"Yes," he whispered. "The time has come. Let the Galaxy feel our power—let us _rise_ above the weaklings."

A cheerful thought then occurred to her, reminding her of both something she had wanted to do and something she needed to do. "Captain," she said, hoping he hadn't closed the channel.

"_Yes, Mistress?_"

"Are the Senators aboard the transport?"

"_Yes, milady_."

"Good," she replied, "have your gunners target it."

"_As you wish, milady_," the gruff voice replied.

Her faced darkened, as she smiled mirthlessly. "Send them our _regards_."

"And what of the Republic fleet?" The figure asked bemusedly from the shadows, once more.

"Let's see how they react with a nightmare from their past," she replied.

* * *

"Bastila!" Carth yelled, as he hugged his son and nodded towards Atton. "I'm glad you're alive!"

She nodded professionally, glad that her old friend had remained alive from the seeming tempest that raged around them. "It's good to see you too, Carth," she said. "We don't have much time—but we're willing to lend you any aid we can."

"Good," Carth sniffed, "we're going to need it." He paused for a moment, glancing back at Atton, almost as if he recognized the young man from somewhere. "Who are you?"

Atton extended a hand. "Name's Rand. Atton Rand. I'm with the Jedi—we met on Telos after that Sith attack."

Carth nodded, remembering finally. "You're with the Exile."

Atton scoffed, "not quite."

The _Sojourn _rumbled slightly, almost as if a reminder to the Admiral of the fracas around them. He looked pleadingly towards Bastila. "Can you still commit to your Battle Meditation?"

She nodded. "It's been some time since I've last used it," she replied, chiding herself in her mind. _The last time I had used it was during the Starforge_. "I think I can give it a try."

Carth nodded, not entirely comfortable with the feeling that she might not be confident in her abilities to use it once more. "Any help is worth it," he said reassuringly.

"I'll need some room," she began, only to have Carth nod and cut her off.

"You can go to the briefing room—I'll have my personal guards escort you."

"Dustil will have to go with me," she said warningly.

The veteran bit his lip but nodded, albeit reluctantly. "All right," he replied, turning to Dustil. "Be safe."

The younger man nodded. "You too, father."

Atton looked at the trio in confusion and couldn't help but blurt, "and what am I supposed to do while I'm here? Play Pazaak?"

Carth looked at the young man. "Can you fly?"

Atton smiled. "I'm the best pilot in the Outer Rim."

"And a Jedi to boot too, I imagine," Carth replied. "All right, I'll have an officer take you to the hangar bay. We've got some fighters in the bay there—and you can get suited up."

Atton turned to leave with an officer that came by, ready to take the young man to the hangar. He paused and turned back to face the Admiral, knowing the danger of the ensuing battle. Even though he would normally duck and run, he knew he couldn't—Theresa was counting on him. He'd taken the oath for her. He'd see this through. "May the Force be with you," he said, turning to leave.

"May the Force save us all," the Admiral replied.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well, there is some good news after all--I've found a backup, though incomplete, of _Catharsis_. Unfortunately, I lost 35 pages of information, but rest assured, I will get those back with rewriting them. It will help me out for later, I presume. Anyway, as I said, for the next little while, Dante's taking a back seat while we see how the old gang reacts to the Battle of Coruscant, KOTOR style. **


	38. Come What May

_Come What May _

_He walked through the empty halls alone, the low whispers of the wind filling the background, as his footsteps echoed throughout the empty chamber. Nothing but broken and eroded columns lay within the once pristine and noble chambers of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. _

_Hardly anything lived within the home of the Jedi anymore. _

_It struck a chord in his heart, as he brought a gloved hand towards his chest, touching the fabric of his armour. The beat of his heart added to the symphony of natural and perturbing sounds that filled the ruins of the Temple. _

_The setting sun's light shed through the empty corridors, bathing the broken paths and highlighting the once silvery, marble walls and floors with slits of crimson. At one time, it may have been a beautiful and wondrous sight to behold, but now it only chilled the man's bones._

_His black cloak covered most of his frame, and the hood did well to hide his face, revealing the tip of his nose. He continued to walk towards a hallway, his shadow casting itself long against the backdrop of the room. Only a faint whirring sound came from the movements within his voluminous cloak. _

_He walked through several more empty, yet eroded hallways, passing through the upper levels of the Temple, making his way towards the one place he felt a small tug of life from. _

_It was faint, but somehow, it seemed ready to collapse into itself—almost as if it once carried a great burden. _

_His gloved hand—his right hand—moved up towards his chest, as he felt the small diamond shaped wooden pendant that swayed gently under his armour and shirt. "Bastila," he whispered, hearing it faintly echo across the hallway where he now walked. It had been a gift from his beloved during their time on the wookiee homeworld of Kashyyyk. It had been carved out of a fallen wroshyr tree branch. On the pendant was a wookiee symbol for strength and honour. _

_He continued to walk towards the chamber in front of him, seeing a closed battered door. Just behind it, the small tug of life was withering away. His hand dropped, slightly stroking the worn and older blaster of a friend he had been forced to leave as well. "Carth," he whispered, once more. The blaster had been a gift—something the older man had given up as a present. It contained the Onasi family crescent. _I consider you to be a member of the family, Revan, _the man had once said. _

_His left arm whirred faintly, as he flexed his hand, feeling the mechanical instruments work its wonders. Undoubtedly the Mandalorian, Canderous Ordo, would be impressed with the souvenir. _

_He paused in front of the door, as he took a moment to reflect on those dark events that had blossomed into stopping the Sith from saturating the Galaxy. In all of his being, Revan was composed of things that reminded him of his companions. He wore a gauntlet from the wookiee Zaalbar; the ability to infiltrate facilities from the abilities of his former assassin droid, HK-47; he carried the skills of slicing through computer terminals and security protocols from both the Twi'lek, Mission Vao and the utility droid, T3-M4. _

_The faint breeze shook the Jedi's cloak, throwing back the hood and revealing his light skin, long unruly hair and his neatly trimmed goatee, which he grew as a reminder of the wizened Jolee Bindo's lessons. _

_If it hadn't been for his companions, he would have truly been lost to the Force—and consumed by the power of the Dark Side. _

_His life was all that he kept from Juhani. It pained him slightly in his heart that the Cathar had given up her life, sacrificing herself to save Revan from falling to the fate she did. He remembered the events clearly in his mind, almost as if they were but the day before. _

_She had rushed to face Malak on the Starforge, deflecting his lightsaber before the Sith could bring it down and kill Revan. The Sith Lord had used his powers of the Force to send Revan flying back, and was eager to take the kill. _

_Juhani had bought the Jedi precious moments by giving up her life. _

_She had fought intensely with the Sith Lord, knowing that she could never defeat him, however, she somehow endured long_ _enough for Revan to rise and unleash his full power as a _true_ Guardian of Peace and Justice. She had been impaled right through the lungs, watching helplessly as Revan faced Dark Lord of the Sith in a final showdown. _

_It was because of Juhani that Revan still lived as a Jedi Knight. _

_It was because of Revan that Juhani didn't give herself to the Dark Side and ultimately fulfilled her destiny, becoming the final guiding Light in Revan's redemption._

_He sighed and pushed open the doors, hearing the whine and groans in protest as they opened wide. His eyes went wide with horror at what lay before him._

_The bodies of everyone he had known—even the Jedi—lay strewn across the circular chambers of the Jedi Council. _

_The bodies of Carth, Dante, Mission, Forn, Zaalbar, Jolee, Juhani—even _Malak_—and many more, lay in a perfect pattern, as their heads surrounded the five figures within the circle of corpses. _

_Two older women—one clearly his Bastila—holding each other, with a little girl in between them. _

_The child appeared to have the black hair of Revan, but the soft features of Bastila. _

_Before he could mutter the child's name, he realized the trio had been petrified into that position, becoming nothing more than mere statues of indefinable horror. _

_Revan clenched his fists, as he walked towards the trio of girls, his heart's beat banging against his eardrums. A lump formed in his throat, as his mouth went dry. He saw the other woman and saw her for who she really was. _

_Her dark hair, her oceanic blue eyes had told him all. _

_She was _he

"_I know you," he whispered, as he gazed towards her, casting a finger across her cheek. "Rena, the one from my dreams." His eyes shifted upward, noticing the final two figures. _

_One was a woman clad in black; her short white hair did nothing to hide the regal posture of the former Jedi Master Atris. _She_ was the one who was holding on to life._

"_What have I done?" She whispered, her chest heaving as she gulped in deep breath after deep breath. Her hands were stained with blood and she had fallen to her knees. _

"_You have done what was needed of you," voiced another figure—a man. His long black hair covered his eyes, but the dark red glints within them promised much more bloodshed to come. "Your time has come." He was clad all in black, wearing armoured shin pads over his boots, and armour that covered his left-most part of his chest and shoulders. His left arm was clad in a black metallic gauntlet that also covered his hand. The figure's right arm was covered in the black tunic underneath the armour, with a black glove covering his right hand. _

_Revan eyed them curiously, as the wave and shimmering of his surroundings continued unabated. _

_The dark clad figure stood behind Atris, as he brought both of his hands on her shoulders, then bringing his right hand up to caress the fallen woman's face. _

_She tilted her head affectionately towards the hand, as it wiped away the tears that formed across her face. "I can't go back now," she sobbed. _

"_Shh," the figure said, clearly unaware of Revan's presence. "It will all be over soon. Would you like it all to be over?"_

_She nodded her head almost as if she were a young child. "Yes, I want it all to be over."_

_The red glint in the figure's eyes twinkled, as he smiled, revealing a set of perfect sharp, ivory teeth. "Good." His dark, palpable voice seemed unable to ignore. The melodic rhythms in his voice filled the hollow room, causing Atris to hark to him as a Saint. _

_Atris moaned and tried to scream as both hands began to cover her face, crushing her. She began to scream and flail, as blood began to stream down her cheeks, soiling her black gown. "I want to live!" She screamed, as the maniacal cackling of the dark figure continued. _

_Revan looked on in horror and disgust as he moved towards them, watching as blue swirls raced across the figures arms, moving towards his chest. _

_In a flash, it was over. _

_Atris' crumpled and lifeless form fell to the ground, as the figure brought both of his hands high over his heads. _

"_It is done!" He pronounced, squealing in delight, as he circled the Chambers. "Atris, I release you from your tormented life. You have served me and I shall never forget it." As he opened his mouth once more to speak, he paused, feeling the gentle tingling of hairs rising at the back of his neck. Whirling around, he saw a shimmering of Light. "No," he hissed._

_Revan's eyes narrowed as he realized that the figure now saw him. He began to walk towards the obvious Sith Lord, staring intently into the dark figure's eyes. "I won't let this happen," he said fiercely. _

"_You fool," the tall figure hissed, suddenly appearing somehow mangled and marred. "It already has begun. You won't stop me, _traitor_!"_

"_We'll see about that," Revan replied evenly. _

"_You think the Force will prevail in you? The one who walks in the Force shall never awaken—your line will be _broken_! Once more the Sith shall rule! _I_ shall rule!"_

"_No, the Jedi shall defeat you."_

_The dark figure chuckled, as he ran a gloved hand through his black hair, revealing pure red irises and pupils, leaving no trace amount of colour in his eyes whatsoever. "It's already begun—Atris has seen to the dissolution of your vaunted Order. She was a tool, just like you were once. You'll fail—it's all been set in motion by the _Lords_." The figure revealed a crimson blade, slashing and snarling at the same time._

_Revan watched the blade come whirling towards him, seeking to find itself within the Knight's chest._

* * *

"Bastila!" Revan rose from his cot, panting heavily, bringing a hand to run across his matted hair. The visions through the Force had been nothing new to him—he had endured it for a long time. It was a small price to pay for the atrocities he had committed. His mind had been focused on Bastila, as he felt the weakening of their bond. That was another price he had to pay, but he paid it willingly, knowing that he now fought for her and the future of their child.

His daughter. It took him moments to realize the child was his, but he found his thoughts turned to one of the final visions that caused him to leave. He thought his child was a boy, who'd eventually command a legion of soldiers clad in white with blue stripes across their armour. The young man bore some familiar resemblance to Revan, but the Jedi couldn't be sure who the young man was.

He shook his head and rose, realizing he was wearing nothing more than his dark breeches and a light undershirt. He looked around and realized he was in his quarters on board his cruiser. He moved towards his desk, while his pendant dangled across his chest.

Holding a finger on a switch on the silver table before him, a voice replied.

"_Yes, sir?_"

He slowed his breathing, blinking multiple times. "Inform our old friends that their time has come. Their resurgence is needed now, more than ever."

"_Yes, sir_," the voice replied crisply.

Revan ran his hand through his hair again, the light whirring of his cybernetic arm joining the hum of the cruiser he was aboard. "Tell them to make their way to Coruscant—I fear the enemy has made their move and we're in no position to launch a counterstrike."

He removed his hand from the switch, closing the channel and allowed his mind to turn to the recent chain of events that had occurred. His motley fleet had walked into an ambush near Bespin on a refuel mission. Somehow the Sith had gained the drop on the fleet and that only led him to suspect one thing: subterfuge.

There was a traitor in their midst and not even he nor Theresa or the other Jedi they had collected had been able to determine who was the traitor.

Either way, the ragtag fleet had suffered heavy losses. Deep space seemed to be their only refuge for now, until they made their way towards Hoth—an exceptionally remote star system surround by asteroids. It provided an excellent outpost during his previous war efforts.

He could only hope this crusade would succeed. It was bad enough his scouts reported the massing of several Sith battle groups—_all _of the vessels being a courtesy present from the former Darth Revan and the Starforge—at the edge of known space. If they were already launching their invasion, undeterred by what Revan's forces were doing, then it appeared the Galaxy would suffer for countless millennia under the despotic rule of the Sith.

Revan ran his hand through his matted hair again, as his sweat stained body tingled with the cool air that ran in the ship's ventilation system. _Someone's playing us for fools. I can only hope Theresa finds out whom the person is, otherwise we're all dead._ He looked around and sighed before he checked his chronometer on his wrist. "2 more hours until my shift," he muttered. _What do I do?_ He turned around and faced the large transparisteel glass that protected him from the harsh environment of space, while it revealed to him the glory and splendour of what he was fighting for.

"Guess I could always go out for a run," he muttered. He threw on his boots and paused as another image of a face that bore a similarity to his own crossed his mind.

She had long hair, cut short to her shoulders with skin fairer than his own, yet her eyes betrayed her lineage. Somehow she was linked to the former Dark Lord, and more to the point, he found it curious that she seemed to be in some form of trouble that involved everyone he had known. It hadn't been the first time he had seen her, and her name came back to him almost as if it were his own.

It was a name he found himself coming to know every passing night. It was someone who he had found himself growing to know. "Rena…"

* * *

**Author's Note: Well, now you have it: Revan and his campaigning against the Sith. This was a chapter that kind of sprouted up when I was contemplating the KOTOR Battle of Coruscant. Up next, we see Atris tie up some lose ends and we witness the full blown battle where the Republic Dissidents/Sith Remnant vs. the Republic. Plus we'll see how Bastila and Dustil work out as Master and Apprentice, as well as a surprise guest. **


	39. Shattered Galaxy

_Shattered Galaxy _

Senator Greco paced back and forth in the lobby of the Senate, along with his other co-conspirators.

"What is taking so long?" One of the nervous Senators—a Bothan—asked.

"Coruscant is obviously under attack—our allies have arrived a bit earlier than we had thought," Greco assured his panicked companion. _They had to have forgotten—right?_ His red, multifaceted eyes shifted nervously, as his fingertips tapped each other.

"Then where is that shuttle?" Another Neimoidian asked, as he paced along with the other 15 Senators.

"It will be here," a human male said calmly. "Our allies have informed me that they will be on their way."

"Good," Greco said, looking at the others. "You see? Our allies will be on their way."

"Do you really think dealing with the Sith—let alone Mistress Traya—is a wise decision?" The other Neimoidian asked.

Greco looked taken aback, almost as if the words his co-conspirator had said was just a slap in the face. "Of course! They wouldn't let any harm come to us—they need us! And we'll be in a far more powerful bargaining position than anyone else, when it comes time. General Scrimshaw will see to it that our forces will continue to match the Sith. They will respect us."

"They will think we're fools for thinking we're equals with them," the Neimoidian muttered, shaking his head, fatigued.

"You worry too much, Nasbol," Greco said. He kept his own fears inward, despite the fact he felt the same way as his Neimoidian compatriot.

The distant rumblings of the ensuing battle above and further away from the Senatorial district could be heard. It continued to shake and rattle the bones of the Senators who had brought the Sith the access codes to disabling the shield and defensive systems of the Galactic Capital. What's more, the Senators had been behind every move and decision that involved the dissolution of the Republic. The only thing they hadn't counted on was that the Jedi would survive and begin aiding the battered remnants of the Republic up above.

Greco's hands shook nervously as he continued to ponder what the Sith really had in store for them. He only wanted his prize—head of the new Galactic Order. All he had to do was sell out the Republic, and he had accomplished that feat by having all the most powerful Senators within the Republic stop Forn Dodonna's efforts to rebuild the Republic at each and every turn.

He allowed himself a smile, as he thought of Dodonna's name going down in the annals of history as the most incompetent and impotent Galactic leader throughout the Galaxy. He never liked her from the beginning, but nevertheless, he had indulged in fantasies where she was his to command.

He awoke from his trance as the building shook lightly, and the fears of the Senators filled the silence.

"What's going on?" One of the Senators yelled. "I demand to know where that transport is!"

Almost as if to answer the wily Senator, a door hissed.

A figure approached and he merely bowed. "Ladies and Gentlemen, honoured delegates—the transport is here."

The Senators sighed a breath of relief.

As they followed the figure—a Falleen male—they noticed a growing blue and crimson light bathing the entire structure.

"What's that light?" Greco's aide demanded.

The Falleen smiled. "That's just the transport coming down now."

Greco maintained a calm composure, despite the fact he was ready to break down and cry, eager to get on board that transport.

As they moved away from the building, they watched the bathing glow of sapphire wash over the entire structure and area.

"I'm glad that we're not part of that battle above," one of the Senators muttered to another.

"You can say that again," another commented. "We'll let the fools die where they stand. We're going to make it after all."

"This way, please," the Falleen indicated, as the shuttle's door opened.

The Senators, traitors to the Republic, entered the shuttle, which was piloted by a droid.

The Falleen left, along with escort guard, as the shuttle began to lift off and leave.

"Wait, where are they going?" Greco asked, as he watched the group enter another vehicle that took off in the opposite direction.

The droid didn't reply as it piloted upwards into space.

"Relax," Nasbol said, "you worry too much. They'll go off to die—we're going to see the Mistress."

Almost as if his words had been law, a screen appeared along with a figure.

It was Traya.

"_Greetings, loyal delegates_," she began, "_I am glad that you all have gathered. Now we will witness the final destruction of the Republic and usher in a _new_ era. An era where there are no politics—only strength, loyalty and power._"

"What does she mean?" Nasbol muttered to Greco.

Traya's thin lips grew thinner, as she smiled mirthlessly. "_I am afraid that means that our time together has run out. Your services are no longer needed—in fact, they are to be terminated as of this moment. Goodbye._" Her face winked out and only the sounds of the Senators muttering indistinctly filled the cargo hold of the shuttle.

"What does she mean?" Nasbol repeated, this time much louder.

The sapphire glow seemed to appear brighter.

Greco's mouth formed an 'O' as he realized the darker meaning in Traya's words. They had betrayed the Republic—Traya's new era referred to no traitors. Regrettably, that meant their life—and power—had been nullified.

Greco screamed and shoved his way through the bodies, trying to look for the hatch—some way out—, as the blue light continued to be fixated on the shuttle.

The other Senators began to scream and shove, eager to find a way out.

The droid pilot continued to steer the shuttle casually, almost as if nothing were amiss.

The last things ever heard from the Senators was not about whether or not the Galaxy's problems should be solved, or whether one system stood to gain from a precious commodity that should be shared throughout the rest of the Galaxy, but in fact, the last thing heard from them were screams and moot pleas of survival.

The shuttle tore apart like paper as raw fire leapt and flew from it when the torpedo detonated across its hull.

* * *

The Sith fighters continued to swarm around the Republic fleet, bathing the remnant in a dizzying array of colours, as the arrowhead fighters of the Republic continued to fight valiantly against their darker aggressors.

"There's no way we can win this," Carth mumbled, as he monitored the battle.

It was quite simple: the Republic was losing.

He looked at the computer simulations, hoping it would be able to come up with some plan or form of attack—something that could aid the battered fleet.

The _Sojourn_ continued to lurch as it absorbed heavy fire.

"Sir!" One of the officers called out. It was the same female officer from before.

Carth turned around, barely holding onto a console as the _Sojourn_ lurched again. _I don't know how long this baby can hold_.

"The _Guardian _is under heavy fire—it's been pulled out of the picket groups!"

Carth's eyes went wide with horror as he turned away and stared at the farthest portside he could. He watched as the _Guardian_, the sister-ship to the _Sojourn_, was pummeled under the unrelenting scarlet fire from two _Interdictor_ class ships.

The valiant warship continued to fire away, and much to its credit, the cruiser did mass amounts of damage to both Sith vessels.

It was to Carth's disappointment, however, when the _Guardian_'s tri-engines tore under the strain and well-placed shots from the batteries of the Sith vessels.

The _Guardian _tore apart and exploded with a shattering crack.

Much to the valiant ship's credit, several hunks of the vessel's debris crashed into the two warships, doing moderate—if insubstantial—damage.

Carth turned back to face the officer. "Have the fleet move in towards Scrimshaw's battle group."

"Yes, sir," the officer replied, tapping several switches.

"We're going to pop his bubble. Have all vessels that can get a clear shot at his group target their torpedoes, batteries and heavy laser emplacements—target their _armouries_." Carth's lips turned into a morbid smile. "Let's see how they would like to suffer from friendly fire."

After another moment, the officer faced Carth. "Admiral, the fleet's responded."

Carth nodded tiredly. "Fire."

* * *

General Erik Scrimshaw paced on his small and confined bridge, watching the battle at a relatively safe distance. His flagship was buried in the center of his battle group, away from much of the danger of the battle, as his other subordinate commanders had placed their vessels between possible firing locations.

He smiled, as he watched the troopships—Sith and Republic alike—find their way into the planet's surface, while the real battle waged above in the dark vast openness of space. _How does it feel to be bested by your much younger and _obviously _superior nemesis, Carth?_ He suppressed a chuckled, as he watched the battle rage.

The Sith fighters he had carried aboard as opposed to the Republic fighters had come in handy. They had caught the Republic fleet off guard and they had torn through the Republic's numbers before they could muster a counter attack.

He sighed, watching the ensuing battle. His keen eyes noticed something severely amiss, as he watched a concentrated array of energy and torpedoes moving towards his fleet. "What's going on?" He whispered. Following the streams of colourful energy was none other than the Republic fleet, led by the _Sojourn_.

It appeared that Carth wanted to pay the General a visit.

_Oh no_, he thought, as he watched several of his cruisers and frigates shatter and explode, bathing the bridge in a bright light, forcing the General to shield his eyes.

"Sir! We've lost two of our cruisers and four frigates! One of our carriers is on fire!" A frantic voice echoed in his ears.

"Pull us away! Pull us away!"

Erik watched as entire engines crashed into their comrades, detonating with deadly efficiency as several more vessel came apart under the relentless fire and shrapnel from their deceased allies.

Suddenly, as if to shake Erik from his surprise at the ingenious strike Admiral Carth Onasi had deployed, a klaxon blared.

"We have intruders—they're Jedi!" The same officer blurted, as the flagship shuddered slightly from the minor energy bolts that struck the vessel.

Erik turned around, his hair mussed and his teeth clenched tightly as he barked his orders, "deploy every available soldier to counter them! And let those Dark Jedi join them! I want them off my ship!" He breathed heavily as a dark realization formed in his mind: he would walk away from this at a heavy price—that was, _if_ he walked away at all.

He turned back to face the battle in front of him and watched as his fleet and Carth's fleet moved in precariously close to one another, raining emerald and crimson energy against their hulls in a desperate bid to destroy each other.

_Where is Traya? _His eyes shifted further away from the approaching mass of Republic vessels, as he found the Sith engaged against a flotilla and task force of Republic vessels that were reduced to only a handful of vessels. _The wench better hurry up_, he thought as he watched his fighters mingled with the Republic fighters that were now hurling energy towards one another and assaulting all capital ships.

* * *

Bastila sat down in the briefing room, centering herself as Dustil did likewise. She took a deep breath and watched her apprentice carefully. "Remember, you must center yourself and embrace the warmth of the Force, almost as if it were a blanket you could wrap around yourself."

Dustil looked at her blankly. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nevermind—I've been spending too much time with my daughter. Just center yourself, listen to the stream and currents of the Force. Allow yourself to bathe in its stream, as if it were nothing more than a waterfall. Let it smother you and focus on the trickles that find their own path along your body."

Dustil closed his eyes and focused on her voice, attuning himself to the Force almost as if it _were_ a stream.

She closed her eyes and found his presence within the Force. She brought herself close to him, watching the bright blue silhouette match hers, and their presences merged.

He gasped slightly, as he felt her open his mind, focusing slowly on the trickles that had become the voices and minds of the figures in the Republic who fought against the darker silhouettes of the Sith and Republic dissidents.

_Now touch their minds, alter the trickles and guide them towards one another, pooling them into two groups._

Dustil felt his joints tingle slightly, as he turned the swirls—or 'trickles'—of the Force into two distinct pools: one red, the other blue.

_Now delve into those pools and find the bitterness and joy in each of them_.

He felt his aura ascend, and dive into the miniature pools that quickly grew and deepened. He watched the darkness—the despair—and the light—the joy—mingle between one another, where the darkness was slowly gaining in the sapphire pool.

_Focus on the positive, touch the pool of darkness and guide it towards the crimson pool. Focus on all the memories of joys, touch their minds and pull it towards the sapphire pool. Feel the victory—let the Republic's minds focus on winning. Watch the Sith's despair overwhelm them and thrive on the lucidity of the victory for the Republic. _

Dustil continued to focus his mind and slowly push the Republic officers towards victory. Slowly but surely, he could feel the dark tendrils of the Force wither away and allow the gentle and light swirls of the Force take over in the mind of the Republic soldiers.

Before he could prod them to continue, however, he felt a dark wave pass over him and send him back. He felt his presence fall into the black abyss of the pool he created for the Sith, feeling his lungs and body constrict as he gasped for air within the seemingly tangible pool.

A dark laughter could be heard all around him, as he felt the momentary merged presence of his Master shunt away from him. Dustil helplessly watched in horror as he saw a slowly materializing blue aura of Bastila in front of him, standing firm and strong as another presence wended its way into the fold.

"_Hello Bastila,_" the deep, dark and coy voice spoke. "_Trying to use that Meditation of yours again?_"

Dustil saw his Master stand firm, watching almost as if she recognized the dark presence.

"_I see you've allowed the Dark Side to corrupt and twist your mind, Atris_," Bastila replied serenely. The blue swirls of the Force gathered around her, seemingly drawn out of the darkness that continued to plunge the trio further down.

"_I can't have you cheating now,_" the voice replied, a hint of displeasure in the dark, shrouded tone.

"_This power of yours is nothing compared to the true nature of the Light_," Bastila replied, her long hair swirling around her along with the currents of the Force.

"_How little you know of the Dark Side, precious Bastila_," the snide voice spat back.

"_I know enough to understand that you've allowed your mind to be twisted and deranged. You're nothing more than a mockery of what you once were._"

"_Silence!_" Atris' voice echoed throughout the darkening void. Suddenly the Dark Mistress' voice became teasing. "_Let us see if the _second _golden child of the Jedi Order can repel that which she creates_."

Before Bastila could reply, she felt the blue swirls of the Force become nothing more than dark tendrils that wrapped itself around her limbs and torso, pulling her further into the darkness.

Dustil watch helplessly as another figure approached to face him.

This face held a pair of red eyes, and black hair that covered the man's elegant yet brutal face. "_Taste the power of despair and feel your body become rank with death again, Dustil,_" the figure said, chuckling.

Dustil brought his spectral hands to his throat and felt his life ebbing from him, as a wave of complete black covered his sight. "_The Meditation_," he managed, trying futilely to pull away from its iron grasp, "_it's killing me!_"

"_The irony is delicious, isn't it?_"

* * *

Carth watched on as his fleet threw themselves against Scrimshaw's fleet. _This is only going to get a lot worse before it gets better._ He allowed himself a small smile as he watched a handful of enemy cruisers and frigates keel over and burst like an overripe fruit at the relentless energy his fleet was sending that way.

The _Sojourn_ stopped lurching as much, but still took some damage as he watched a carrier and frigate smash into each other. He sighed. This was definitely going to be a lot worse than he had imagined.

"Sir," the somber voice of his Lieutenant managed.

"Yes?"

"We've lost contact with General Vorrsk's battle group." She looked up at him, her grey eyes revealing the emotional weight every other officer, pilot and soldier carried within them—Carth included: defeat.

Carth nodded dismally, taking care to weigh each word he said. "Have our fleet tighten up and call all available fighters to start defending our grids. It will only be a matter of moments before the Sith move on from them and get here." _I guess Bastila's Battle Meditation failed_, he thought dully.

Almost as if to confirm his dark suspicions, the _Sojourn_ shook.

The Republic's numbers were dropping rapidly. It would only be a matter of time before they lost the space battle above.

Carth turned around, facing every single officer still alive and at his or her posts.

There was hardly anyone left who was unscathed.

"It's been a pleasure serving with all of you," Carth said, as he faced the maw of defeat. The Republic group had found itself thrust between the Sith and the Republic dissidents. "Have all gunners target those enemy cruisers and let's take them down with us, if we have to."

Before the tired Admiral could go on, a new group of signals had emerged, revealing a group decanting from hyperspace.

"Sir!" The female officer cried. "We have new signals!" She turned to face Carth with shock and surprise. "It's the Mandalorians! And they're friendlies!"

* * *

The figure in silver and black armour watched the blue swirls revert to streaking stars and then revealed the Galactic Capital. He stood in the command center of his prized Mandalorian warship—one of the few that somehow managed to survive the wrath of Malachor V unscathed, along with the other vessels and cruisers in his motley fleet.

_Never been so close to the Galactic Capital_, he thought, staring at the beautiful carnage that was being wrought all over the silver gilded planet. _We could have had it in mere moments—too bad we're here as allies. _He turned to face another armour-clad figure—this one in yellow and silver armour. "Deploy all fighters," came the gruff and battle-hardened voice. "Let's show the Republic whose side we're on. Let the Galaxy remember the might of the Mandalorians!"

"For Mandalore!" Cried Kelborn, the yellow and silver clad Mandalorian, who was Mandalore's second-in-command.

"And get those Jedi Revan sent us to join in," Mandalore added, "I don't want them to sit down and let us do all the fighting."

Kelborn nodded and moved towards another console, relaying his leader's orders.

"Open a channel to the _Sojourn_," Mandalore said; smiling underneath his mask, "I want _Admiral_ Onasi to be greeted by his rescuers."

The screen in front of Mandalore's view shimmered, revealing a battered and tired Carth Onasi.

"_Should have known it was you_," Carth greeted.

"It would appear that you need some help there, _Republic_," Mandalore said, obviously enjoying this and reminding Carth of an old nickname.

Carth grimaced at the nickname. "_Yeah, well, this is a bit vain, even for you, Canderous, so knock it off!_"

"Revan said the time was right for our resurgence—remember, I'm doing this for Revan, not out of any kind of sympathy," the Mandalorian replied flatly.

"_Yeah, well, I never thought I'd say this, but thank the Force for the Mandalorians._" Carth paused for a moment, obviously grimacing at the thought of saying it. "_We've engaged a group of Republic dissidents—well armed and they're obviously working with the Sith. I need you to engage the Sith_--,"

"Whoa, whoa," Canderous replied, bringing a thumb towards his chest, "_I'll_ carry out _my_ own orders. You deal with your little band of rebels—I'll take care of the Sith."

Carth shook his head, annoyed, but welcoming of the Mandalorian's aid. "_The Sith are being led by the _Leviathan_, Canderous_," he warned.

Canderous said nothing.

"_I thought so_," Carth muttered. "_We're both outgunned. I've ordered reinforcements, but I don't think they're coming. We're on our own._"

"Quiet, Onasi," Canderous replied. "I'm formulating a plan to destroy the _Leviathan_." The armoured figure scoffed. "Leave it to the Mandalorians to clean up your mess. The Republic couldn't even destroy Malak's flagship. I don't know how you managed to survive this long, Onasi."

"_Quit speaking and help us already!_"

"Right—I'll have a detachment of fighters aid you. The rest of my fleet is going to engage the Sith."

"_Good luck, Canderous_," Carth said sincerely.

The Mandalorian grunted and closed the channel. He turned to face his loyal crew of Mandalorians he had managed to find. They had once been scattered, but now they were here, under one banner and ready to die a warrior's death. "Have a squadron of our Basilisks and Revan's Jedi aid the Republic battle group."

He turned back to watch the carnage. _They're going to need it_. "And deploy everything we've got towards the Sith—I want the _Leviathan_ destroyed and the head of the fool who decided to pick it up from its graveyard."

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well there you have it: the true beginning of the Battle of Coruscant KOTOR Style. Things are going to heat up big time for our loveable heroes and dastardly villains. On a lighter note: I am aware that these updates are much slower. I am still working on school, finals and trying to complete the rewrite of the ending of _Catharsis_. On that note, I will be updating _Rise of Darth Revan_ soon enough. **


	40. For Honour, Glory and Battle

_For Honour, Glory and Battle _

The Mandalorians brought their sleek, long and heavily armed capital ships to bear on the Sith fleet, watching as the obsidian bird-of-prey Sith fighters scattered only to be turned into temporary balls of light from the lances of energy that sprung forth from the cannons and battery emplacements on the cruisers.

Along the Mandalorian warships were four cylindrical and durable wings that spanned about 15 feet from the cruisers' main hull. At the end of each cylindrical shaft was a large, stubby, cylindrical pod. The vessels also carried larger engines than ones normally mounted and used on Republic vessels as well as the Sith warships.

Seemingly thousands of Basilisk droid fighters—ostensibly manned with Mandalorian pilots, as well—littered the view, as their large rectangular engines roared along the massive warships' own trajectory.

Regrouping, the Sith fighters moved together to engage the Basilisk fighters, who gladly joined in the fray.

Destruction seemed to find its own path easily between the two looming Titans, as the fighters slammed against one another and darted back and forth, firing relentless salvos of crimson energy, along with the occasional missile.

Out of nowhere, another group of fighters came by, this time being the same size as the Sith fighters—that is, quite smaller than the Basilisk fighters and slightly smaller than the Republic fighters. Marked in colours of burgundy and silver, these fighters carried a drooping sensor array at the nose of the fighters, a pair of S-foils with twin lasers mounted on both wings, and the chassis was practically designed around one engine that didn't hinder the fighters' abilities in the slightest. These were the fighters of none other than Revan.

Revan's Jedi Knights, lost from the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil Wars, had come into the game, greatly bolstering the battered remnants of the Republic and the resurging Mandalorians.

They joined in the fray, spraying rounds of emerald energy, as one of the fighters scored a hit against a Sith fighters, sending it caroming into the massive Sith destroyer that now made its way towards the Mandalorian fleet.

Joining into the cacophony of the battle, Mandalore—or Canderous Ordo—couldn't help but smile as he watched his fighters assault the Sith with the same energy and bloodlust they had once done to the Republic just over 10 years ago. _This is truly a glorious battle that the Galaxy will remember for ages to come!_

"Mandalore," one of his men called out, "the Sith have moved their capital ships towards the Republic fleet. Only their lighter vessels are engaging us."

Mandalore frowned in his mask. "So, they don't think we're worth their time, eh?" He brought one hand out and said, "let's make them think twice about turning their backs on Mandalorians! Fire the torpedo cannons!"

The four pods that raced along the compressed wings of the warship let loose a dazzling array of torpedoes that left blue and red streaks as they zoomed towards the destroyer that moved before them.

The destroyer absorbed the impact head-on, as fire began to rip through the hull, racing towards the engines that let out a brilliant burst of fire, enveloping the warship in its destruction.

Following suit, several other Mandalorian cruisers fired the 'torpedo cannons,' since that was what they practically were. The torpedoes were specially designed with more explosives and lesser fuel, as it would be fired as projectiles against oncoming battleships. There was no need for guidance systems or anything else that would only delay the destruction of an enemy. When it came to war, the Mandalorians were prepared for anything.

Several of the frigates and light cruisers detonated in well-timed explosions, while others were simply cast on fire.

The fighters continued to zoom everywhere, as they each raced to kill one another.

Mandalore, however, continued to frown as he watched the Sith continue to move towards the Republic fleet. _If I don't get their attention soon, there won't be a Coruscant worth saving—and I doubt Revan would be happy. Neither would Carth for that matter_. His upper lip curled as he watched the Sith fleet slowly move towards the Republic fleet that was barely holding its own.

"Can we fire another salvo?" He asked. Normally he would have not worried about the consequences of what would happen to the Republic fleet—he'd let them die for all he cared, especially if they couldn't handle their current enemy. All that changed almost 7 years ago. What he felt wasn't out of misplaced loyalty or friendship as it was merely an honour to fight alongside the vaunted Revan and victories would be even more glorious—that was, if there was a victory in all of this.

"Yes we can, Mandalore," Kex, the quartermaster replied.

"Good," he replied. "Fire again—but this time, target the moving destroyers. I want to catch their attention."

The cruisers opened fire again, unleashing a salvo of deadly missiles and torpedoes that crashed into another destroyer, but only casting enough damage to pepper the hull in minor flames.

Mandalore snarled. "Have every other warship fire at that destroyer!"

The rest of the fleet did likewise, as the lighter vessels, gunboats and picket ships engaged the lighter Sith vessels that had converged on them.

That same destroyer took the damage, highlighted with more damage but still moving continuously.

"Damned Sith," Mandalore cursed under his breath. He looked away from the view and turned to face a tactical screen. "Have groups Fett and Ordo move away and engage that destroyer while Hessian group moves to sector Green-6 and provide defensive cover for our destroyers."

"Yes, Mandalore," Kex replied, following through with the orders.

Mandalore watched on as both groups of Basilisk fighters assaulted and harassed the capital ship, only to watch several of the fighters wink out in the first wave alone. He sighed heavily. _Whoever is commanding this batch of Sith is as stubborn as a Cannok. I'd personally like to meet that commander and then shoot him._ After another moment, Mandalore turned to face Kex. "Have all groups converge on that moving battle group—leave the Jedi forces to engage the lighter forces."

"But they greatly bolster our forces, Mandalore."

"We'll make do—remember, before Revan and these Jedi, the Galaxy feared us."

* * *

Dustil tried to breathe as he felt the dark tendrils of the Force pull him further into the pool of complete black—there was no light, there was no hope.

"_Yes_," hissed the male figure, "_struggle—it makes things all the more delicious._"

Dustil closed his eyes as he tightened his muscles over his body, squirming to break away from the grasp of the tendrils and the Meditation itself. It amazed the younger Jedi that somehow those two Sith managed to tear into their meld. He couldn't feel Bastila's presence—he didn't know how she might be faring.

He released his grip on the tendrils and relaxed his body, closing his eyes and trying to close himself from the Meditation.

"_You won't escape that easily, whelp_," the figure said maliciously. "_I am going to enjoy this, Dustil Onasi_."

"_Who are you?_" The young man asked, looking for some way to escape.

"_I am the darkness that binds the Galaxy—without me there would be no Force, no war, no death. There would be none of that which you cling so dearly to. I am the Dark Side incarnate._"

_Great_, Dustil thought, _another whacko. _

The figure snickered. "_You are far too weak—admit it. Give yourself to me and I might yet let you live._"

"_Sorry,_" he mustered, "_but I already saw what the Dark Side has to offer me. Sure it may have its moments—what with the occasional dictatorship and all, but it doesn't come with the health benefits associated with the Jedi Order, I think I'll pass._"

"_Continue to jest—I might let you stay like that for all eternity, my misguided friend._"

"_I'm not your friend_," Dustil said flatly.

"_So be it, but you must be growing tired. All that strain, all of that effort you've put into the Meditation. I'm sure that shell you call a body must be growing tired_," the snide voice sent back. "_Not to mention, cold._"

Dustil bit back a reply, closing his eyes once more and feeling himself try to touch with the Light Side of the Force.

All he felt was the cold chill of the Dark Side. Hope was lost and despair continued to grow within him.

Somehow, the figures managed to send the Battle Meditation back. Instead of Bastila and Dustil using it to prod the Republic forces into victory, Atris and the shrouded figure managed to force the pair of Jedi to bolster the Sith forces.

He continued to feel his life ebb away, as his extremities continued to grow colder.

_Master_, he thought, _where are you?_

* * *

Bastila closed her eyes and found her the calm center within. Tapping into it, calling on all of her experience as a Jedi of the Light, she opened her eyes and let her hands touch the dark tendrils, melting them away into blue swirls of the Force again.

She regained her ethereal footing, as she walked in the middle of the dark pool, as the dark tendrils that touched her glittered once more into the blue swirls of the Force.

"_You won't escape_," Atris said, her voice echoing through the darkness.

"_I don't need to escape,_" Bastila replied, her blue silhouette moving through the darkness unabated. "_I am merely here to see you at an end, Atris_."

"_Ah, the Jedi being a tool of the Light Side. A servant, no less._" Atris chuckled. "_Is that what you will say next? That you will allow the Force to use you as its pawn, nothing more? You will not seek to take control over your destiny—over the infinite power you wield?_"

Bastila continued to tread lightly, moving towards the shimmering darkness that radiated towards her.

Without realizing it—focusing too much on Bastila—, Atris was slowly presenting herself to Bastila.

"_The Force guides our destiny—even if you feel the need to delude yourself with having powers over it. We are bound to it and the Force—the _future_ is always in motion. You forget your teachings, _Master_ Atris._"

Atris growled, unaware that her presence was now completely revealed. She faced Bastila darkly. "_The Force is nothing more than a tool! We have infinite power and you've only seen a taste of what is to come! You will be but the first stepping stone to something greater_," she screamed, raising both of her hands as she sent a wave of darkness towards Bastila, slamming the Jedi away.

Bastila quickly regained her footing, allowing her spectre to pass through the dark wave of the Force. "_There is no infinite power. No matter how great or small you think your powers are now, the Light Side shall prevail. It teaches us endurance, understanding of all things and most of all,_" Bastila said, extending her hand, as she watched Atris tumble away. "_It teaches us inner peace during our darkest trials_."

Atris screamed as she rose, revealing a dark spectral sword. "_This is but a taste of my power_," she exclaimed, revealing the dark blade, highlight in a shade of red.

"_Then it seems we're equally matched, Atris. Our battleground is comprised of our minds—it is no different from the other battlefields we face everyday._" As she finished speaking, a blue blade shone forth from her hand, finding its cool grip in her hands as she watched Atris' features reveal the dark monstrosity within.

The former Jedi's features had been marred and mutilated, as she revealed her inner self—the monster that was created out of her anger. Her eyes shone darkly with a tint of red, as her nose no longer appeared regal and prominent, yet sharp and predatory, along with her teeth, which appeared as nothing more than red fangs. "_Your precious Revan created the monsters within ourselves, Bastila—remember that. He brought the dark teachings to us all and remember that _he_ brought the taint to you. Also long as you have that, you shall forever be bound to _me."

Bastila appeared stoic, though she felt some part of her sting from those words. "_He did bring them, Atris—but you allowed yourself to fall before he ever found the dark teachings. You allowed yourself to be mastered by the Dark Side of the Force. The will of the Force shall never be bent to serve you because it is quite the opposite._"

Atris' momentary grin twisted into a grimace as she raced towards Bastila, her dark sword high above her head, screaming with wild abandon.

Bastila steadied herself and brought her blue sword before her, watching as Atris raced towards her.

* * *

Atton brought his fighter around, as he joined the remaining pilots of Red Squadron.

"_All right, crew, form up on me_," came the voice of the Squadron leader.

"Copy that," Atton replied into the channel, as he veered the sleek arrow-shaped fighter towards the Squadron leader. _Guess I'm fighting here while you're fighting all the way over there, huh, Babe? _He gritted his teeth as he passed by the fleet flagship, watching as the numerous Sith fighters regrouped and began to move towards the rest of the fleet. _This is going to be some ride,_ he thought, remembering his past during the Mandalorian Wars and his more shameful past during the Jedi Civil War.

Somehow, Theresa looked beyond it and sought out to train him and teach him the ways of the Force.

Somehow, she had forgiven him and even looked past it, loving him all the more for his honesty and truth.

He tightened his grip on the yoke, as he steeled himself for the rushing onslaught of the Sith fighters. _This is for you Babe—I'm not going to go down yet._ He clenched his teeth as he hit the boosters, weaving and wending his way through the Sith fighters that rushed past him. He squeezed the trigger on the yoke, watching as green energy lanced away and slammed into an unfortunate Sith fighter that zoomed towards him.

He smiled, watching in delight as the fighter tore apart under the bursts of emerald energy.

"_We've lost Lead!_" cried a voice on the channel. It was Red 2.

Atton gritted his teeth. _This is going to get hectic_, he muttered.

His astromech, T3-AR3 muttered something.

"What do you mean the stabilizer is out?"

The droid muttered again.

Atton brought a gloved hand to his face, feeling it touch the mask he wore instead. _Great, just what I need—another tin can_ _who can't get the job done_. "Look, I don't care what you're doing right now! Lock it down!"

Three Sith fighters veered off and moved towards him, firing unremittingly, and forcing the former assassin to weave through the debris of his former comrades.

AR3 whistled and hooted.

"I know what I'm doing! Just lock those stabilizers down! I'm going to lose my lunch here!" Atton spiraled the fighter through the debris, as he pulled his fighter close towards one of the Republic frigates.

The fighters continued to follow him closely.

Atton gritted his teeth as he watched them follow him like a hungry pack of wolves. "So you think you're a bunch of hotshots, do you?" He slammed on the fighter's breaks, watching the Sith fighters overshoot him. He smiled as he squeezed the trigger, watching as one fighter explode in a fireball, while the other two split up, one of whom was caught in an array of energy fire from his comrades.

He followed through with the fighter that managed to evade him, chasing it as the Sith pilot flew just a few precarious feet from the hull of another frigate.

"Oh no you don't," Atton drawled as he flipped a switch that gave him missile control. He continued to evade the fire from other fighters, spotting two more members of Red squadron burn up under the slaughter of the Sith. He continued to match the fighter speed for speed, as it tried to dodge him and the missile lock that was aiming for him.

_Come on_, Atton thought frantically.

_Come on_.

He was rewarded with the light beeping sound that turned into a long tone. "Gotcha." A red streak was sent from his fighter, veering towards the Sith fighter, only to hit debris as Atton watched two bolts of scarlet slam into his kill, destroying it.

A boxy fighter with two large engines darted past him, causing Atton to veer away. "Thanks for stealing my kill!" Atton groaned, as he could have sworn he saw the Mandalorian in the fighter wave back to him.

In fact, Atton could have sworn he'd seen that same Mandalorian elsewhere.

The pilot's voice crackled over the radio. "_Pleasure to see you too, Atton Rand_," the voice of none other than Kelborn greeted.

"Should have known it was you," the cocky pilot snorted.

"_You should be more wary of your kills_," Kelborn replied, obviously enjoying the battle.

"Yeah, well, go kill somewhere else—that Sith still counts as my kill!"

"_All's fair,_" Kelborn reasoned, manoeuvering his fighter away from Atton, as he locked onto another Sith fighter.

"_Cut the chatter, Red 5_," the voice of Red 2 called.

Atton groaned as he veered his fighter away, locking onto another Sith and switching back to twin lasers, as he fired discriminately towards the Sith, scoring several searing hits across the fighter's port solar panel.

The Sith fighter veered away, moving towards the Dissident flagship.

_You haven't met the likes of me, yet_, Atton thought determinedly as he flipped a few more switches. "Tin Can, throw whatever power you can to the engines!"

AR3 retorted with several beeps as the droid did the pilot's bidding.

The Sith fighter barrel rolled, as it dodged the lancing emerald bolts.

_This one's good_. Atton banked his fighter port, narrowly dodging a piece of wrecked cruiser from Carth's earlier Alpha Strike. He brought the fighter to run parallel to the flagship's hull, only to see the fighter engulfed in flames, as a pair of Jedi fighters unleashed a torrent of torpedoes at the battle cruiser that slammed into the hull, sending plumes of fire dissipating into space.

_Stang!_ Atton pulled the fighter away from the heavy cruiser, watching as the Jedi pilots unleash deadly fire from their fighters against several more cruisers.

A brief blinding flash told Atton that the Jedi's handiwork had paid off against a destroyer.

He pulled his fighter around and began to move towards the _Sojourn_, eager to pick out his new set of targets, until he saw a concentration of dull silver moving towards the Republic fleet. _Oh no_, he thought, his heart leaping into his throat as he pegged the silver wedged shapes for the Sith fleet.

_I have a bad feeling about this_. He accelerated his fighter towards the _Sojourn_, his finger caressing the hairline trigger on the yoke.

* * *

Mandalore watched on at the carnage that was being wrought, tapping his fingers gently against his armour plating that ran along his right thigh, lightly shaking the heavy repeating blaster pistol strapped to it. It had become a habit he developed while he traveled with the so-called 'Exile.'

He turned to face the tactical computer simulations. He frowned in his mask.

There was hardly a scenario where both the Mandalorian and Republic fleets would emerge victorious.

_Perhaps this is a good day to die, after all_, he thought morbidly. He turned back to look at the view before him, his appetite for battle unusually satiated. "How far are we until we reach those Sith cruisers?"

"We'll move to intercept their fleet in 2 minutes, standard. We'll be joining the Republic fleet in 1 minute 30 seconds," Kex replied, looking out at the battle. This was what he had been waiting for his entire life—now he'd have a chance to participate in it.

"Good," Mandalore replied, closing his eyes for a moment, remembering the moments in his life that had led to this point. He found himself remembering the Mandalorian Wars, watching as they burned the Cathar homeworld and glassed the cities of Serocco. He remembered the final, horrific battle of Malachor V, watching as the planet pulled both Republic and Mandalorian ships alike into its gravitational pull, imploding, thereby killing countless millions.

He opened his eyes again, watching the carnage unfold before his very eyes. _And so this is where the Mandalorians end_, he thought grimly. _At least it will be known that we fought with honour, glory and took many of them down with us._ He turned to face Kex, who continued to tap away at the console. "Fire every available weapon we've got towards those heavy cruisers—let the Republic and the Jedi coalition forces deal with the lighter cruisers. Bring us as close to them as possible, I want them to look us in the eye and remember the Mandalorian Wars, and let them remember it as if they were staring death in the face."

"Yours will be done, Mandalore," the quartermaster replied.

_Now_, Mandalore thought bitterly, _we get to see who wins out this day_. His eyes shifted to the tactical computer at his side. _This is going to be a lot worse than Malachor_.

The odds were still against him.


	41. Surprise, Surprise

_Surprise, Surprise _

Jolee evaded the cruiser's relentless turbolasers, as he fired a salvo of missiles into the hangar, tearing apart the bay's doors. "Hold on to something!" He screamed as he brought the small, sleek vessel into the hangar, holding on dearly for his life as the ship slid across the surface, hitting unfortunate and slow Sith soldiers along the way, before it came to its grinding halt.

After a moment and the ship shuddered, Jolee looked back at his companions. "Told you I'd get us there."

Frreral merely growled in agreement and rose, helping Visas up to her feet.

"Thanks," she said, looking at Jolee, who had now moved toward the hold of the small ship.

"We've got company," he said, as the ship rattled slightly with blaster fire hitting the hull. "We need to get out now."

"Perfect," Frreral muttered, picking up his lightsaber.

Jolee smiled looking at the pair. "This is where the fun begins."

"Some fun," Visas replied.

Jolee ignited his lightsaber and he tapped a key near the doorway, watching the ramp open. "You ready?"

They nodded, igniting their lightsabers.

In a blur, they rushed out, deflecting blaster bolts that came streaking for them, only to be sent back into the ones who sent them forth.

Frreral let out a growl as he smacked away a bolt and brought his golden blade into the face of the hapless Sith.

Visas opened her body and mind to the Force, allowing it to enhance her movements as she impaled a soldier with one end and decapitated another with the other end of her blade.

Jolee continued to walk towards a pair of Sith who were firing relentlessly at the old man, who merely cast the bolts away and sent three bolts back into the chests of the Sith.

They paused for a moment, the sound of their lightsabers filling the silence as they looked around them.

The bodies of their enemies littered the hangar bay.

"That was easy," Frreral said.

"Too easy," Jolee replied, narrowing his eyes.

Visas looked around, allowing the Force to guide her sight as she looked past the bulkheads, seeing nothing but more bulkheads. After another moment of allowing her vision to look through the vessel, she came to one determination. "It's a ghost ship."

"Someone's either expecting us or something else is up," Frreral said.

Jolee looked across the hangar. "The ships are still here. Something is obviously not right."

They moved towards the doorway, opening it and looking through, their lightsabers still thrumming.

Nothingness filled the well-lit hallways, while the hum of the ship's engines filled the background noise, along with the dim sounds of battle.

They tread through the hallway, following Jolee, who appeared to have an immense knowledge of the vessel's layout.

"So far, so good," Jolee mumbled.

"Something doesn't feel right," Visas said. "There's something _elusive_, I can feel it."

"I can feel something too," Frreral replied.

"It will appear when it is ready to," Jolee answered, "just wait for it. Keep your mind focused on the here and now—it will come when we reach our goal."

Before he could finish that sentence, the trio stopped and quickly moved back to back, watching as several ripples in the air shimmered and revealed a group of Sith assassins.

Jolee's eyes moved away from their enemies as he realized where they were.

It was a junction between hallways.

"Split up," Jolee whispered, as they all moved into their stances.

"Are you serious?" Frreral growled, unsettling a few of the Sith, who all had their crimson lightsabers ready.

"I have to agree with our furry companion," Visas said. "It wouldn't be wise to—,"

"Just listen to me," Jolee hissed. "If we split up, we can take some of them with us and one of us can destroy the ship."

"No one is destroying the ship," came a familiar voice.

"That wouldn't do at all," came the same voice, but at another side.

"No, it wouldn't," agreed a third.

Jolee's eyes went wide with horror as he felt the presences of the Sith assassins who had surrounded them. "Revan clones." He also remembered the faint presences of the creatures he fought on Kashyyyk. They too turned out to be clones of his friend.

"Very good," replied another voice—a snobby and hostile voice. The figure appeared from a corner, walking with several soldiers clad in crimson and black armour, brandishing heavy blasters. His dark hair was slick back and he walked with an air of command.

What struck Jolee the most was how similar he appeared to Saul Karath.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, "my name is Erik Scrimshaw." He smiled looking at the trio of Jedi. "These are from a familiar friend of yours." He eyed the older Jedi with interest. "Ah, so we meet at last," he said. "The ever elusive Jolee Bindo."

Jolee eyed the man darkly. "I'd say it was a pleasure, but you know how it is, what with you selling out the Republic to the Sith and all."

The man smiled smugly, which gave Jolee all the more desire to restructure his face. "Shouldn't you be dead by now?"

Jolee eyed the man. "Shouldn't you be kissing the Sith's--,"

"Enough," Scrimshaw replied, bristling slightly. "I made a choice, and I do not need to hear you try to tempt me to kill you." His hand moved around, revealing the Sith that surrounded him. "They can do it for me." He turned around to leave, moving with his Sith entourage, as the assassins stood poised, ready to strike against the three Jedi. "I'll be sure to send Carth your regards," he replied.

Jolee let out a low growl. "Did I ever tell you that I was there when Saul Karath got it?"

The man paused.

"So, you're his spawn," Jolee said, knowing that he had hit it on the nail. "Can't say that I'm impressed."

The man looked back, facing the old man and staring him in the eye. "I hope you suffer as they kill you," he spat back venomously, his spittle hitting the older man's face. "I want to see that priceless expression plastered on that face of yours as clones of your precious friend drive their blades into you. And as you're lying there, in those final moments, I want you to realize how you let down everyone you ever cared about as I go and destroy your Republic and Carth Onasi."

Jolee bit back a retort as he watched Erik walk away, along with an entourage.

Before anyone could react, the Revanites were sent flying back, courtesy of the Miraluka Force wave.

Seizing the moment, the trio plunged their lightsabers into the fallen Revanites, killing their opponents instantly.

Frreral turned about, after he finished killing his latest fallen opponent, only to be sent back from a burst of blue electricity that coursed along the Jedi's body.

Jolee turned about and managed to deflect the blast, as he spotted two more Revanites—these ones exceptionally skilled in the Force and in fighting.

The Naver brothers had come.

"Down!" Visas cried, as Horn leapt over the Miraluka for Jolee. Visas rose, turning about, hoping to slice Horn in half, only to hear the crackling of energy as Torn's lightsaber crashed against hers.

Frreral rose, his head swooning with pain as he struggled to regain his vision.

Jolee found himself hard-pressed, dueling the Alpha, while Visas engaged the other one, moving further away from the group.

Frreral found himself torn between a choice: aid Jolee or help Visas.

One thing was certain: someone would die.

* * *

Atton squeezed the trigger and watched his latest victim burst into flames. He allowed himself a smile. _Another one bites the dust_, he thought as he pulled his fighter about.

AR3 whistled a warning, as Atton's string of intergalactic profanity came back as a reply.

A trio of Sith fighters had formed up on him while he was engaging his previous target. His eyes shifted to the battle, watching as the Republic cruisers—and the Mandalorians for that matter—were hard-pressed to stop the Sith assault.

He felt his fighter shudder slightly, along with AR3's string of what could be considered droid profanity. "I know! I know! I'm doing the best I can!"

AR3 whistled a smart reply.

"Would you rather find yourself floating as a lump of molten durasteel?"

The droid didn't reply.

"Thought so." He breathed in deeply. _Come on,_ he thought, _hold on just a bit longer. I am doing this for Theresa_. He gritted his teeth. He rolled the fighter between two light frigates pummeling each other, hoping that the trio would follow.

To his surprise, they did.

To his fear, they evaded the turbolasers.

"Hold on!" He screamed as he accelerated the fighter, pulling the yoke back as far as he could, watching the fighter rise above the frigates, as he moved towards a group of the strange Jedi fighters that successfully tore a dissident Republic cruiser in half.

The fighters continued to match him, evading debris and shrapnel along the way, eager to kill the fighter pilot.

Atton gritted his teeth, grimacing as he decelerated rapidly, hoping the inertial compensators would keep his guts from splattering all over the fighter's canopy. He felt his stomach lurch as hot, putrid bile ran up to his gullet. He swallowed, grimacing once more but allowing himself a smile as he watched two of the three fighters shoot past him, while the other was slammed with energy from the frigate's turbolasers.

"Got you right where I want you," Atton muttered, squeezing the trigger several times, watching as emerald energy lanced out of the mounted cannons.

The Sith fighters rolled, allowing the energy to roll around and pass over them, as they continued to scream away.

Atton gritted his teeth again, squeezing the trigger and watching his fighter expel mass amounts of energy at his skilled adversaries. "You're going down!" He screamed, as he felt his body tense and then suddenly relax as a wave of relief washed over him. His hands guided the fighter and without blinking—without realizing it, he watched one of the lances of energy crash into one of the fighter's solar panels, melting away and causing the fighter to careen into a piece of floating bulkhead.

The other Sith fighter looped around, hoping to catch Atton off guard.

Atton decelerated the fighter further, pulling the yoke tightly to his left, watching the stars slightly streak before he squeezed the trigger again.

In moments, the Sith fighter completed the loop, only to race face first into the stream of green energy.

The transparisteel glass shattered as the energy slammed into it, killing the pilot instantly. The fighter disintegrated under the impact, not even detonating into fire, as it fell apart.

Atton's fighter raced right past it, as a blue streak crashed into Atton's latest foe.

"Whoa!" He screamed as he watch his cockpit light up for a moment.

AR3 hooted and whistled, applauding the pilot for his skills.

Atton didn't have time to reply, as he watched streams of scarlet energy fly around him. "More? There's just no winning." He brought his fighter about, as he found himself remembering an old lecture from both Theresa and Visas. _Keep your mind away from the negative—focus on the positive and trust in the Force to set things right._

"Theresa?" He looked about in his cockpit. He shook his head. _She's not here—it's just my imagination_.

_Focus_, came her voice.

He clenched his jaw, evading the lances of death.

_Trust your feelings_.

"Theresa," he whispered, closing his eyes as he found the bond with her once more. "Yes," he whispered again. He opened himself up to the Force, completely, letting go of everything and allowing his body to become loose.

AR3 whistled a warning, trying to wake Atton from his trance.

The Sith fighters were gaining on him.

* * *

Dustil tried to struggle against the dark tendrils that pulled him further into the dark abyss he created.

The dark figure before him grinned in delight. "_Struggle all you want, you will never escape_."

Dustil grunted.

The figure chuckled.

_I will find a way out of here_, he thought determinedly, as he bit back the urge to give into the Darkness and crush the man in front of him.

"_You won't escape_," he replied.

Dustil eyed the figure with something akin to disgust. "_You will not win_," he spat.

The figure brought both hands over his face and acted as if he were shocked. "_My, my, that's a terrible tone you have. Do you kiss your daddy with that mouth? It seems to me that you're getting angry at me, aren't you Jedi Onasi?_" He brought his hands down to his hips, "_looks like we've got to teach you some manners, young man_." He laughed hysterically as he waved his hands and brought Dustil's body in front of him; the dark tendrils were still holding him in place.

Dustil groaned and gritted his teeth, staring the figure in the eyes.

"_Come on_," the figure said, grabbing Dustil's face and squeezing his cheeks, "_get angry. Come on, it would be fun!_"

Dustil continued to stare icily at the figure.

After another moment, the figure removed his hand from Dustil's face. "_Fine,_" he replied, mockingly exasperate. "_Looks like I'll just have to have my way with you then_." He brought his hands up and began to move the young Jedi about with a simple gesture, forcing the young man to dance, act as if he were in a web and essentially move as if he were nothing more than a marionette.

Dustil continued to groan and growl as he was moved about.

_Close your eyes and concentrate on the Force_, a soft, feminine voice said softly.

Dustil shifted his head about, looking to see if Bastila had arrived.

_Trust in the Force, concentrate on the Light_, the voice urged. It was definitely not Bastila's voice.

Dustil closed his eyes, as the figure continued to dance wildly about, stretching the young Jedi's muscles and putting the boy into every conceivable—and excruciating—position.

_Remember what your Master taught you_, the voice continued, as a wave of relief and serenity washed over the young Jedi.

The figure paused for a moment, watching as Dustil found his center and in an instant, a flash of brilliant pure blue light washed over him, bathing his spectral figure in an even brighter hue of blue as the dark tendrils melted away.

"_What?_" The figure screamed out in surprise.

"_I am one with the Force_," Dustil said, his voice sounding as if thousands had spoken at the same time.

The spectre of a blue skinned Twi'lek woman and an older man with a scar appeared alongside the young Jedi.

"_Impossible!_" The figure screamed as intense blue light washed over him, tearing holes into his dark figure. _I have to escape_, he thought as he felt the light sear through his limbs, burning his ethereal figure. Leaping back, the unknown Dark Jedi closed himself from the Dark Meditation and then faded away, into nothingness.

"_Nothing is impossible as long as you are one with the Force,_" replied the older man, who watched the figure dissipate. Behind him two more figures appeared, both of them being twins. Very soon, many more spectres followed, crushing the dark pool as beams of light began to pull through.

The figures that shielded the young Jedi were none other than Alec Ness, Rin Mesa, Nathaniel and Xavier Ravenmoon and many other Jedi who had perished over the course of the last 10 years.

"_Who are you_?" Dustil asked, his voice filled with wonder.

Alec looked at the younger Jedi and replied, "_we're the Force_." He smiled after a moment and said, "_you must be Dustil Onasi_."

The young Jedi nodded in wonder. After a moment his thoughts turned to Bastila. "_Where's Bastila_?"

"_She's fine_," replied another Jedi, a Cathar female who stepped forward. "_She is strong in the Force and she has come a long way since…_"

"_The Dark Times_," replied another voice, this one very masculine. He had no hair, only dark tattoos that covered his bald head. "_She has even won the heart of Revan_," he said in his soft-toned voice, smiling cherubically.

"_Perhaps, but there is still a lot of work that is left to be completed_," came a gruff voice from none other than Vrook Lamar.

Alec looked at the gathering of the Jedi who had found a way to retain their spirits within the currents of the Force. He looked at Dustil and said, "_now you must go, young one, lest these ones continue to bore you with their ramblings._"

Dustil smiled, when he noticed the gruff spectre frown.

Alec smiled, "_go forth, your Master will awaken soon from the dissipating dark pool. You will truly make a wise and strong Jedi. Keep faith, now you must complete your meditation, young one. No one will interfere anymore…_"

Before Dustil could reply, he was sent floating away, almost as if he were weightless and were floating in space. Soon after, he knew no more, until he blinked and realized he was back on the heavily damaged _Sojourn_.

* * *

Carth watched on in horror as the loyal Republic fleet took a beating. Nothing would stop them now. It was too late. Thousands of specks fluttered away, as small plumes of fire lit the vastness of space.

_I have failed_, the Admiral thought dejectedly, lowering his head. The Republic fleet had lost significant numbers and the secessionists had almost achieved their victory.

The Sith had begun to aid Erik's fleet and Carth could only watch as the four powers collided against each other, the fleets trading fire against one another leaving hardly any vessel unscathed.

The Admiral ran a hand through his damp, messy hair. The bridge was filled with the acrid scent of smoke, klaxons roared, light flickered on and off, and whatever officers were still alive had suffered many terrible burns and injuries from the battle.

Almost as if it were to threaten the lives of the already battered officers, the _Sojourn_ shook once more, sending a showering of sparks flying across the fallen bodies of the officers.

Carth had given up removing the fallen bodies of his officers during the first three hours.

He looked at the officers that still remained at their stations. The corner of his lips tugged into a small smile that quickly turned into a grimace as a dark crushing weight filled his heart. He had led them all to their deaths—the young, proud and strong officers of the next generation were all falling before him.

"Sir," came the voice of the female officer, her voice tired and weary as they watched on in horror at the carnage around them. "We're receiving a transmission from the Mandalorian flagship."

Carth nodded, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Put it through."

A blue-hued image of Mandalore—better known as Canderous Ordo—appeared before him. "_This is a fine day to die, isn't it, Onasi?_"

Carth was too tired to even form a reply. He just shrugged.

For once, in his battle-focused life, Canderous Ordo spoke in a softer tone. "_Things aren't turning out the way we had thought._"

Carth coughed, his eyes meeting the cold, faceless mask that continued to stare at him. "What do you have in mind?"

The Mandalorian sighed, his broad shoulder heaving slightly. "_We've got a possibility to defeat the Sith._"

"I'm all ears," Carth said, bringing his hands out in a mild gesture.

"_We're going to board the _Leviathan_ and destroy it—maybe that'll put a dent in their plans._"

Carth's ears perked up, but resisting the urge to jump at the idea of the plan, he eyed the Mandalorian with wariness. "What's the catch?"

The Mandalorian chuckled. "_That's what I've always admired about you, Onasi—you've got spunk._"

Carth—as much as it surprised him to have the strength—stared at the Mandalorian hard.

Mandalore shrugged. "_We need your proton cores—if you've got any_."

Carth shook his head. "We're out of them—and our power core's on the verge of a meltdown with all the power we've used against those dissidents."

Mandalore shook his head, growling. "_The one time I actually need your help and you're completely useless._" He sighed again, looking at the Admiral."_At least we'll go down in a blaze of glory._"

Carth shrugged, smiling mirthlessly, "I guess this is one of those times when Revan would have saved the day."

Mandalore grunted. "See you on the other side."

"You too."

The image winked out.

"Sir?" The lieutenant asked, looking at the Admiral. "What are your orders?"

Carth looked about his bridge, feeling that somehow he had erred when he took the commission as an Admiral. He remembered his days as a pilot, feeling the squeeze of the trigger as he rid the Galaxy of one less evil to worry about.

"Sir?"

He looked back at the lieutenant and said quietly, "do we still have any fighters in the hold?"

She nodded, "we have four and a half."

Carth raised a brow. "'Four and a half?' What's the half?"

"Most of them are damaged and salvaged from other fighters, sir."

_Great,_ he thought. "So which ones work?"

Her eyes shifted to the ground before they came back up. "One, sir."

Carth furrowed his brow and looked away, thinking for a moment. After another moment, he turned back to face her. "Have it prepped."

She looked at him, almost as if he were half-mad. "Sir?"

* * *

Bastila's sapphire blade struck against the mutilated Atris' scarlet blade, as ripples of the Force radiated around each strike.

The dark woman sidestepped the Jedi and snapped out with her red ethereal elbow, hitting the bastion of Light in the temple.

Bastila took the hit in stride, sending her pain whittling away into the dark corners of her mind—in this case, the dark pool, causing it to grow even darker, if it were at all possible.

"_You won't win_," Atris said, her voice pouring down with malice and with the strength of the Dark Side of the Force.

Bastila felt the cold weight pressed against her chest, forcing her to accept defeat and be crushed by the dark pool and Atris. She let out a gasp, feeling the weight continue to press against her.

Atris began to laugh, her voice resounding throughout the black depths, as she watched the younger Jedi Knight wrestle with the darkness—albeit fruitlessly.

Bastila continued to struggle, feeling the weight press even harder against her each time she fought against its power. She had relinquished her blue ethereal blade, causing it to dissipate within the dark pool.

"_Continue to struggle_," Atris sneered derisively, "_it will only prove that you are going to falter and then become _mine_. You will never escape your mind—it shall be a prison for you, like mine was for me._"

Bastila heard the words, her mind reeling as she thought of the meaning behind them. _Revan, have you really caused us to completely shy away from the Light?_ She felt the weight continue to press against her, her eyes closing as she continued to doubt against the her lover's true intentions. She questioned his role in the clones, his role in bringing back the dark teachings and bringing the Jedi Order to the brink of destruction—and most especially, his _true_ feelings for her and Vera.

Atris felt the struggling of the Jedi Knight, laughing in dark glee as she felt the tremors of Bastila's thoughts. "_So,_" she whispered, her words echoing as if they were a cacophony of voices that belonged to screeching nails against boards. "_You have lost faith in your 'Love.'_" She laughed loudly, forcing the already reeling Jedi to collapse to her knees on the surface of the dark pool. "_Your true feelings reveal the true, pathetic nature of who you really are. He will never truly love you—he is a creature destined for far greater things than a Jedi Knight who casts doubts on those that give their complete love and loyalty._"

Bastila felt the weight press down on her, sending her falling further into the dark abyss. _Where did this meditation go wrong?_ She felt the tendrils of dark energies stretching out to her, touching her and eager to suck out the strength from her, almost as if they were leeches of the Force. Pressure began to build in her, forcing her mind to focus on despair, as the tendrils grabbed hold of her, sapping the very strength and will to live from her.

"_Your doubt is unbecoming of a true Jedi Knight_," Atris spat, her screeching voice much closer to the younger woman now.

_My…doubt?_

Her voice had become darker and more of a lecturing Master. "_Fool, only _now_ do you truly realize that there _is_ no true Jedi. We are all destined to fall—and I shall purify the Galaxy by removing all traces of the Force. Life will go on—but it will wither away and die, like everything else._" She smiled as she continued her condescending lectures to the young woman before her.

Bastila found her mind focused on something new—and failed to realize until a moment after, that the weight was gone. She focused on the words of the Dark Jedi, feeling a burst of Light within her heart as she felt a wave of love; compassion, nobility, tranquility and determination wash over her.

Revan had restored his bond to her.

Bastila could _feel_ him, almost as if he were there with her.

Another wave of warm-hearted emotions washed over the Jedi, but it was much more raw. It was her daughter, Vera.

She no longer held doubt. As Bastila felt all doubt ebbing from her mind as her thoughts turned towards those she loved. She felt a shaft of warmth trickle across her arm and solidify in her hand: it was the blue ethereal Force-sword.

Atris continued to sneer, raising her blade high above her head and watching as more dark tendrils began to close in on Bastila. "_And so it comes to an end—your Meditation has failed, Bastila. The wave of despair will be felt by all of your friends. When you die, the Galaxy shall be washed in your despair._"

Bastila felt the strength of the Force around her, as she released herself from all fear, anger and most of all, doubt. She found her mind was clear, filled only with thoughts of the ones she loved and the strength they had given her.

She could even feel the strength Dustil had poured into her.

Atris plunged the blade down towards the fallen Bastila's chest.

Bastila opened her eyes, revealing flaring blue energies crackling.

Atris stared in shock as her blade continued to descend. Her mouthed opened, as she hissed, "what?"

The black tendrils formed into blue swirls that spread throughout the dark pool, cleansing it of all doubt—all of Bastila's doubt.

Bastila rolled away, rising as her blade crashed against the crimson ethereal blade that shattered on impact with no more dark energy fueling it.

Atris was sent back in the wash of the sword's destruction. She called out to her companion, only to feel his presence no longer there. Her eyes went wide as she felt the hollow truth and the cold emptiness that wrapped itself around her heart. She had been abandoned to endure her cruel fate alone—just like she had been so many years ago in her self-imposed exile.

Bastila brought the sword over her head, her eyes fixated on the collapsed and weakening former Jedi Master.

The blue swirls of energy raced into the blue sword, as the dark pool began to dissipate, being purified as Bastila radiated an aura of purity—even her dark taint had been removed.

Her ethereal figure radiated a purer shade of blue than Atris had ever seen before.

"_No_," Atris whimpered, her mind reeling at the thought of her new betrayal. She closed her eyes, attempting to close herself from the Force and leave Bastila's mind—Bastila's _Meditation_.

But Bastila wouldn't let Atris leave—Bastila controlled her own mind. "_No, Atris, you must be left to your fate—I sentence you to your true prison: your mind. You shall always be lost there, and so you will never truly be freed._"

Atris' eyes opened wide, watching the sword point towards her as the shaft of energy drove itself into the center of her forehead. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as intense waves of light surged into her.

Bastila watched her dissipate into complete nothingness. In a moment, Bastila felt herself rejoined by another figure—Dustil.

"_Master_," he exclaimed, his blue spectre rushing towards her.

"_Dustil_," she said, smiling to him, "_you're all right. Thank the Force._" She felt a great weight remove itself from her shoulders. She would have been worried for Carth had she been the cause of the loss of Dustil. The young Padawan learner had proven once more to her that he was going to be a strong and capable Knight. If they were going to survive this first.

The young Jedi nodded. "_We have much to discuss, but first we need to complete the meditation._"

Bastila nodded, her mind turning back to the situation at hand. "_How bad is it?_"

He looked down to the clear blue pool. "_It's bad—we're losing._"

She breathed in deeply. She cupped the young learner's chin with one hand. "_We must aid them now—trust in the Force_," she said.

Dustil smiled. "_You're the second one to tell me that in the Meditation._"

Bastila stared at him quizzically.

* * *

Atris flew back from her throne, a small burn etched into the middle of her forehead, as she landed several feet away from the turbolift.

The figure managed to move away in time, as he watched her presence fold in on herself, causing the dark Mistress to suffer the backlash of their assault on Bastila's Battle Meditation.

He had underestimated the young woman—and he could see now that this plan had come to a failure.

Atris lay still, her eyes open and the faint sound of a whimper escaped her lips, telling the figure that she still lived—albeit barely.

He walked towards her, bending down and resting on the balls of his feet, as he looked her in those glazed and faraway eyes. "I'm so sorry, Love, but I must leave you now," he said, smiling darkly as his sharp teeth glimmered in those dark, empty eyes of hers. Right now, he needed to formulate an escape plan. Traya had failed him and now he had to think fast.

He still had one trump card left to play.

He rose and left Atris' fallen form, putting one hand into a pouch on his belt and removing a hand held vocoder. He walked to the communications panel and pressed a key.

A few moments later, the voice of the _Leviathan_'s commander spoke up.

"_Yes, Mistress?_"

His thumb held down on a switch and he spoke into it. "What is the status of the fleet?"

Atris let out a soft whimper as she heard her own voice speaking into the channel. She was immobile and powerless.

"_We've begun to take on heavy losses—the Mandalorians and the Republic fleets have begun to coordinate their attacks and have anticipated all of our tactics. We're losing fighters quickly and we've lost most of our picket ships._"

"And what of our allies?"

"_General Scrimshaw's battle group has practically folded under the pressure—the Republic forces have beaten them into submission. Only his flagship and a handful of cruisers remain._"

The figure frowned and furrowed his brow. The battle had turned in the Republic's favour—courtesy of Bastila Shan's Battle Meditation and the Onasi brat.

"_What are your orders, Mistress?_"

The figure frowned and spoke into the vocoder again. "Has General Scrimshaw relayed us the commands for the Stage Four planets?"

The commander's voice hesitated for a moment. "_No, Mistress._"

He bit his lip and clenched his free hand. He turned around and looked at the fallen Atris' body. He shook his head, _weak, impudent wretch. You couldn't even do one simple task—I'll leave you to your fate_. He turned back to the communications panel. "Tell him to detonate them—that is, if he still has the ability to. Continue to fight to the last man—we'll win this one out as soon as we destroy the Republic's capabilities to fend off another assault."

The commander's voice filled with sudden trepidation, "_you want us to fight to the last man, Mistress?_"

The figure scoffed and then spoke into the vocoder again. "Do not fear, commander, our allies will come along soon." _As if,_ he thought bitterly. The truth was that he had no allies—he had been banished and now he was going to destroy all of his enemies.

The only problem was that the remaining Jedi managed to disrupt his plans.

"_We have allies?_"

The figure rolled his eyes. _Do all of Traya's subjects question her? I'm surprised the wench didn't kill them off._ "Yes, commander," he replied, his voice filling with impatience and annoyance. "I always ensure we have contingencies and plans that will aid us."

The gruff voice of the commander sounded much more hopeful. "_Very well, Mistress, we shall fight to the last man!_"

"Good," the figure replied, his lips forming a cruel smile. He closed the channel and turned to leave, passing Atris and hearing only a slight whimper at her being used and discarded like nothing.

He smiled.

He would bide his time and soon the Galaxy would be his.

All it took was a matter of planning.

Traya had accomplished more than he had originally sought and now he could bring more of his plans to the forefront.

First he needed a new apprentice, one younger and far stronger in the ways of the Force.

Aiden Carnus always found a way to survive.

He didn't care who he had to step on to rise to the top.

_

* * *

He walked through the golden plains, watching as sand and dust fluttered in the wind. Oddly enough, he couldn't feel the touch of the wind—or the grainy minerals of the sand that blew across the desert plains._

_Nothing was left alive amongst the ruins that stood before him._

_There was only four large, worn caverns that pointed to one thing: tombs. Large, black obsidian doors blocked the entrances. _

_They were worn and scored with much damage. _

_Further along the way there came a cliff that undoubtedly led to a deep, dark chasm below, while the sight of the few clouds in the yellowish sky and rays of red light streaked across the plains. The sun was setting and he didn't know where he was._

"_Back again so soon?" Came an old, wizened and grainy voice that seemed to match the wind and texture of the sand—if he could ever have felt it. _

"_Who are you?" He asked, eyeing the lanky, pale and bald figure that walked towards him. _

"_Has it been so long, Dante? Surely you can recognize me—after all, I urged you to eliminate those aberrations of what I once stood for."_

_Dante eyed the figure, recalling where he had seen him. He would have instantly recognized the old man before him, had it not been for one thing: he just couldn't remember the memories that he repressed from so long ago._

_The old man was clad in a black voluminous cloak that undoubtedly hid his black voluminous robes. His eyes were sharp and piercing; his face thin and predatory. He smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth, that only added to heighten the old man's high cheekbones that painted the image of more a predator than a wise teacher. _

_Dante eyed the figure, keeping his distance from the shadowy figure in the flat tundra. The voice continued to remind him of a long time ago—a time he had blocked out, a time he had almost died. Dante's eyes opened wide as memories flooded back into his mind._

_The figure chuckled, which sounded almost as if it were sand paper grinding against wood. "Good, good. You remember me." A toothy grin formed across his dark features. _

"_Tulak," Dante whispered. "Have you come to finish me? Or have you come to excise me from my body?"_

_The former Dark Lord chuckled again and took a step to Dante, who quickly stepped several paces back. He looked up in surprise at the young Jedi. "Do you fear me so readily?"_

_Dante remembered what had happened last time—the shadowy figure tried to usurp his body when the Mandalorian, Dierak Hessian, had nearly killed him. "You won't take my form—I will destroy you," the younger man warned icily. _

_Tulak laughed. "I have come to do no such thing, young one." His eyes glimmered slightly as he tilted his head. "I have come to impart some wisdom on you."_

_Dante clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he replied, "I have no need for wisdom from someone such as yourself."_

_Tulak chuckled again. "Come, boy—do not test my patience. I must teach you this quickly, it is the only way."_

"_I will leave here—I am not going to listen to the likes of you." The Jedi turned to leave, but realized that he still didn't know _where_ he was. _

_Tulak stood there, waiting patiently, smiling his toothy grin once more. _

_Dante bit his lower lip and then looked back at the former Sith Lord-now-turned-wandering-spectre._

"_You have no idea where you are, do you?"_

_The Knight shook his head. "I want to leave."_

_Tulak shrugged. "Fine, but you will not survive without the information I arm you with."_

_Dante's eyes narrowed to thin slits that revealed only complete darkness in them. "Fine," he spat after a few more moments. _

_Tulak continued to smile. "Good." He began to turn away and move to the tomb towards Dante's furthermost left. A trail ran away from the four tombs but strangely enough, the old Sith didn't take it. _

_Dante still didn't know where he was. _

"_Come," Tulak spoke, as Dante reluctantly followed the dark figure. "You shall find what you truly seek in here."_

_They entered the dark cavern, going from the setting sun's reddish haze to an almost pitch black setting. _

_For some time, Dante listened to the old man speak about his time as the Dark Lord, gathering all of his strength and preparing the defences and war machine that was the Sith Empire. _

_Dante took note to monitor the tone of the Sith as he spoke about his betrayal and ultimately his death and the demise of the Sith._

"_They're no longer worthy of the true mantle of the Sith—they have lost the secrets the first had ever created. No one can truly wield the power of the Dark Side and the ability to use their weapon as a _true_ extension of themselves."_

_Dante looked at the old man. "You may have been the greatest duelist of all time, but you had eventually lost. Why do you insist on focusing on me?"_

_The bald man shrugged, his cold eyes showing something that hinted of warmth, which caused Dante to suppress a shudder. "You've seemed to take heed of the things I say—even if I am old and dark."_

_Dante raised a brow as he walked beside the thin, stick figure. "As I recall, you tried to _kill_ me and usurp my body."_

_The old man nodded. "But you defeated me soundly. You focused yourself at the last possible moment and tore yourself from my grasp." His voice appeared exceptionally sincere, considering he had been one of the deadliest fighters of his time—in fact, it was rumoured he was the _best_ swordsman in the annals of history itself. "You completed what so many had failed to achieve."_

_Dante didn't know whether or not to believe the old man. He wasn't sure whether the tone of sincerity was a ploy or actually genuine. For that matter, the Jedi Knight wasn't sure what to make of the Sith Lord who attempted to redeem himself but continued to fall ever further to the darkness within. "And what was that?" He asked, after another moment of pondering the old man's words._

"_You continued to thrive on life—you fought with the fiery spirit and passion of a _true_ Sith."_

_Dante couldn't help but shudder as he felt a cold tingling sensation at the base of his spine. "You say that almost as if it is something to be celebrated as an accomplishment."_

_The old man cast him a sideways glance as they traversed through the dark depths. Surprisingly, no one had stumbled. "It is. You do not yet understand the true strength you wield."_

_This time, it was Dante's turn to cast the old man a glance. "You said 'strength,' not 'power.'" _

_The old man nodded. _

"_And why's that?"_

_He looked at the young man again. "Because a true Sith understands that power comes only from within. A _true_ Sith would fight to preserve his life and to tap into the inner strength of his spirit." He waved his hand in a casual gesture. "These 'new' Sith Order types do not yet understand the concept of true power. That is why they will fail—and that is why we must find a way to preserve what is solely the only reason why the Sith are feared by the Jedi." _

"_You're forgetting that _I_ am a Jedi," the younger man replied, a hint of annoyance in his tone._

"_Perhaps," the old man said, "but you are much more than that. You are one of the few to truly be tapped into the only line that can really wield the strength that you will be given."_

"_What do you mean?" Dante asked, stopping._

"_What I mean," Tulak said, turning to face the young man who greatly differed from the older man in more than skin colour, "is that you're a descendant of my line."_


	42. Dark Ruminations

_Dark Ruminations _

"_What do you mean that I'm your descendant?" Dante asked disdainfully. His fists clenched tightly and his stomach twisted as the thought of being connected to the Sith Lord by blood continued to roll around in his mind. _

_Tulak just stood there, his face contemplative, watching Dante's expression screw into outrage. _

"_Well?" Dante asked after a few more moments. His hands went to his hips, searching for his lightsaber for the first time. The thought hadn't occurred to him before and when he touched the belt at his hips, he felt no familiar cylindrical object. _

_And then he remembered. He lost it in the duel against that Sith that prevented him from getting Rena. _

Rena!_ His mind raced with thoughts of what was happening to her. Then it dawned on him. He didn't know where _he_ really was. He looked at Tulak. "Am I dead this time?"_

_Tulak shook his head slowly. "No, you're unconscious and still drifting between the rifts of the Force."_

_Dante's eyes shifted to the pitch-black ground. There was nothing there save for swirls of complete darkness. "Am I your descendant?"_

_Tulak took a breath. "You're one of them—the others are already dead or lost somewhere," he cleared his throat and continued, " dead either by the hands of the Sith or yours."_

_The young Jedi bit his lip. "Couldn't there be some mistake?"_

_Tulak scoffed, "don't be foolish, Dante. I know what I am talking about—I've had quite a few millennia to wander about and see what my line is up to."_

"_So how did I end up—,"_

"_It _has_ been several millennia, Dante. You have your differences from me, of course." The former Dark Lord chuckled. "Besides, the others are spread down other lines. You'd be surprised, of course, but," he said with a casual wave of his hand, "you're the only one I've managed to keep track of over the years."_

_The younger Jedi couldn't help but shudder, which gave Tulak cause to laugh some more._

"_You are truly something else, Dante, truly something else." _

_Dante looked at the older man. "What is it you want to impart on me?"_

_The old man's countenance grew serious, replacing the warmth in his eyes with the same coldness that made Dante shudder. "Follow me, there is something I must show you first."_

_The pair continued to tread further into the pitch-black caverns. _

_Suddenly, Tulak paused, causing the younger Jedi to pause as well. They had entered a large space within the tunnels. It branched out into a large chamber, revealing a dusty sarcophagus that lay at the center of the room with a pair of obelisks at either side. Oddly enough, it had more light than the tunnel to arrive there in the first place._

"_Your grave site is where you will impart knowledge?" Dante asked flatly, his brow rose in skepticism. _

_The old man turned to face Dante, his expression chiding. "Come, boy, you must heed my words." He looked around and focused on something else, almost as if he was listening for something. _

_Dante exhaled deeply. "What is it?"_

_Tulak shook his head, "nothing to concern yourself with."_

_Dante furrowed his brow. "What is it?"_

_The former Sith Lord shook his head. "You must focus on what I say now—you must go to Korriban, there you will--,"_

"Korriban_?" Dante asked incredulously. _

_Tulak nodded, "yes, you must go to Korriban." He brought a hand up, to prevent the Knight from asking another question. "Heed what I have to say before you choose to do anything else."_

_Dante stood silently, scowling slightly at the old man. _

"_Go to Korriban—look for the tombs near what you would call Dreshdae and go to my own tomb. There you will find something out of place—not part of the tomb at all. It will guide you to another planet—somewhere you've been before. You need to find that holocron, Dante; it will guide you to a new level of the Force. It contains hidden secrets and the fighting style I _created_."_

"_I won't go to the Dark Side," Dante began, only to have Tulak raise his hand again for silence._

"_No, this isn't about you going to the Dark Side. This is to help you hone your abilities and sharpen your senses for the coming trials ahead. You are strong enough to abandon the Jedi tenets of holding back your emotions. To survive, you will need more than your wits and skills; you will need your emotions, Dante." The old man eyed Dante, whose eyes had now shifted to the ground. "Make no mistake, I will continue to guide you along your path. It is different and unique—I've even glimpsed what the Force has in store for you, but you are not ready yet to take the burden."_

_The Jedi felt his heart skip a beat as he was listening to the old man. "What do you mean? What's going to happen, Tulak?"_

_Tulak smiled, it was the first time he heard Dante refer to him by his name, aside from pointing the finger. "I am not at liberty to say, but you must know this: the trials ahead will require you to abandon your Jedi training. You must listen to the currents of the Force. Find the holocron, hone your skills and you _will_ find Rena."_

_The young man bristled when he heard this. "Rena? What do you have in mind for her?" His ire began to rise, his fists clenching. "I won't let you take--,"_

"_Oh come, Dante, I will not bring her to harm. I am teaching you how to _find_ her." He chuckled. "As if I would do something to someone who means so much to you. I may be evil, boy, but I know how to protect that which matters most to me. Go to Korriban, go to Dreshdae and you will find the first key to returning to that planet where Rin died."_

Rin…_ Dante clenched his jaw, and steeled himself to stay standing. His knees felt as if they were going to buckle under the mere sound of her name. _I won't lose her like I lost you! _Dante's mien darkened. "How will your tomb hold the key to returning to that planet?"_

_The old man returned a toothy grin. "That is where I will be waiting for you. That is where my power will help guide your memories to that planet."_

_For some strange reason the chambers began to shudder. _

_Dante looked about in surprise, feeling the entire chamber shudder all the more. _

"_I must go now—your body is moving to another plain." The old man bowed. "Remember, you must trust in the Force to guide you—you _must_ destroy these Sith! They will bring the Galaxy to ruin."_

_In an instant, the Jedi found himself thrust far away, as the chamber dissipated and a white light bathed over his body._

_

* * *

He stood aboard the interior of a carbon scored hallway. It contained white walls and silver floor panels with few terminals that beeped and had switches._

Great, where am I now?_ Dante thought as he walked along the empty corridor. Nothing was alive—or present for that matter. _

_He continued to tread along the hallway, his thoughts falling towards the old man's words. _Should I go to Korriban? What if he is lying?

He didn't lie before_, the young Jedi reasoned inside his head. He remembered that the former Sith Lord's spectre had warned him against Phaete and what the Iktotchi Jedi really represented. _

Yet what about Rena? Do I leave her to suffer for much longer?_ Dante's eyes wandered about the scored hallway. _For that matter, how do I leave this place?_ The Jedi sighed, heaving his shoulders as he walked cautiously about. _

Do I abandon my training in favour of the Dark Lord's training? He has no intent of turning me to the Dark Side…

That's a lie, he almost brought about my death and tried to usurp my body. _He furrowed his brow. _So what do I do?

_Almost as if to answer him, several sparks explode from a console in the empty hallway. _Maybe I can heed the old man's advice. I'll be cautious—if it means finding Rena, then I will do it._ He walked past the burnt-out console. _Maybe I stand to gain a better understanding of the Force—and end another war that is poised to come. _He rounded a bend and saw a smattering of bodies that lay strewn across a junction. _

_They were all clad in black. _

_Dante raced towards them, hoping they were alive only to pause as he gained a better look on them. _

_They were all black-clad Sith assassins. _

_He balled his hands into fists. Sith had arrived aboard a Republic ship. The Republic wasn't faring well. _

_The Jedi Knight heard crackling and sizzling energy, followed by hisses as several low-hums of energy clashed against each other. He faced one of the junctions where he thought he heard the fight take place. _

It's not too late! I can go and save them! _Forgetting that his presence was only bathed in the Force and not actually tangible, he raced towards the sound of thrumming blades that crackled wildly. _

_He rounded another bend and stopped dead in his tracks. _

_Visas was battling for her life against the Revanite assassins he had dueled earlier on Corellia. _

Not good_. The young Jedi looked about for some sort of clue how to aid. _

_Visas ducked from an overhead slash and rolled away, bringing her lightsaber up, twirling into a blur of lacerating silver energy. _

_The Revanite evaded the blows and whirled his blade, attempting to guide the silver shafts of energy away from the grasp of the skilled Miraluka. _

_Dante watched on in horror and felt a wave of the Force wash over him, sending him spiraling away from the vision as he saw Visas fly back from a Force-push. _

_Dante screamed out, "Visas!" _

_It was all he could do._

* * *

Rising from the medical cot he was lying on, Dante groaned, bringing a hand to his eyes, rubbing them. "Where am I?"

Nothing answered.

He dropped his hand and looked up, opening his eyes completely as he realized he was inside Visas' freighter's medbay.

"Oh no," he muttered.

It all came flooding back to him—the search for Rena, the duel with Lotus and the duel with the two elite Sith Assassins.

Dorman Rais.

The Force-Lightning and the burns he ensued.

Dante looked at his hands, running one hand across his chest.

The stinging sensations were gone.

Visas and Atton had applied kolto patches and a medical packet on him while he was unconscious.

He lowered his head, _I'm sorry Rena._ He felt the pit of his stomach turn cold. His hands grew cold and he felt everything close in on him. _I'm coming for you—but I need you to hold on. I have to finish this first._ He felt her presence through their bond and he could feel it withering away. Dante sent waves of reassurance and compassion into the bond, hoping she would receive it and know that he wouldn't leave her to that fate.

_Visas._ Dante clenched his fists, in their tattered and torn gloves, determinedly. _I am coming for you—I won't let you die like the others_. He rose from the cot and found he could walk properly. He moved towards a mirror and looked himself over, removing the coat and the gloves—as well as the bracers—that revealed his light brown skin. Breathing in deeply, Dante held his breath for several moments before he exhaled. He looked to his left thigh to see if his blaster was still placed there.

It was.

He pulled it out, feeling the familiar worn handle of the heavy pistol. He removed the power cartridge, checking to see if it was full. Satisfied that it was, he slammed it back into place and holstered the pistol.

He walked out the main hold and down the ramp towards the battered Jedi Temple.

A few moments later, a small, sleek and exceptionally fast Jedi courier took off from the Temple, heading towards a smattering of yellow balls of light high in the sky.

Dante was going towards the battle.


	43. Turning the Tide

_Turning the Tide _

Atton sighed in relief as he watched his last victim explode into a fireball of hot gas and dissipate instantly.

AR3 tweeted excitedly as they watched the battle rage on.

"These Sith are getting sloppy," Atton muttered.

AR3 beeped a reply.

"What do you _mean_ it's because of your 'augments' on the fighter?"

AR3 whistled another reply.

Atton growled, "listen Tin-can, if it wasn't for _my_ piloting skills, you'd be a lump of floating slag!"

AR3 let out a long whistle.

"Who are you calling 'sub-par?'"

Before AR3 could reply, scores of crimson lances soared over them.

Atton twisted the yoke, barreling the fighter away from their new foe. Atton gritted his teeth as the fighter shuddered from the impact of several bolts of energy. "I don't know how we're getting out of this," he muttered.

"_Cut to your left, I'll take the leader_," came a familiar nasally voice.

Atton's eyes opened wide as he heard the voice. Pulling his yoke to port and slamming on the decelerator, he watched the pair of bird-of-prey like fighters shoot over him.

In that instant, a dart shaped Republic fighter shot over Atton, firing pairs of emerald lasers that sheared away the solar panels of one fighter and detonated the fuselage of the other one.

"Good shot!" Atton declared into the open channel.

"_After 15 years of war, you tend to pick up a few things_," Carth replied.

Atton's jaw fell, wordless at the Admiral who had obviously saved him.

"_You still alive there, Atton?_"

The Jedi trainee blinked a few times before he spoke into the channel. "Yeah—yeah, I am, thanks to you."

Carth's voice filled with obvious relief. "_Good, it'd be a shame if you were killed in the middle of my rescue attempt_."

Atton chuckled and found himself actually liking the older man.

"_Stand by,_" Carth spoke, his voice now filled with seriousness. "_I've got an incoming bogey—and a flight of Sith fighters._"

Atton clenched his jaw. "Copy that, I'm forming up on you right now, Red 15," he spoke crisply.

_Seems like the old days during the Mandalorian Wars_, Atton thought to himself.

_Just like the old days in the Mandalorian Wars_, Carth thought.

AR3 whistled a target threat assessment on the bogey.

Atton's eyes lit up. "Jedi courier vessel?"

A few moments later, Carth mumbled the same thing through the channel.

"What's its destination?" Atton asked, tightening his grip on the fighter's yoke.

AR3 threw up a trajectory diagram on the Atton's HUD, revealing the silver, angular vessel's destination.

"That ship's heading for the _Krayt_," Atton mumbled, realizing that that was the first time he uttered the name of the enemy dissident flagship."

"_Could it be a spy or Sith?_" Carth asked, his voice filled with concern as the Jedi vessel continued its trajectory.

To answer the Admiral's question, the courier zipped past them, the Sith fighters firing madly at the ship.

"Guess not," Atton murmured.

Both pilots pulled their fighters around, following the Sith fighters and the mysterious courier.

Suddenly a voice crackled on the open channel, "_lay down a stream of fire and cover me—I need to board the _Krayt_ and destroy that vessel._"

"_Dante_?" Both men asked incredulously.

"_Yeah, it's me—I'm all right_," he said, his voice crackling through the channel and minor interference.

They witnessed the group of fighters fire more crimson bolts of energy that careened off the courier.

"_But I won't be if someone doesn't get these guys off my back_," he said, his voice worrisome.

"All right," Atton replied, as he felt strength and determination fill him.

He watched Carth's fighter fire several rounds into the Sith fighter nearest him and detonate.

The Sith fighters continued undaunted at the courier, hoping to pick off an easy target.

The only drawback was that couriers were designed to be fast, light and hard to hit.

So far, the Jedi vessel had proven its worth and adaptability.

Atton motioned his yoke, slightly adjusting his flight plan as he targeted the nearest Sith fighter. He brought his index finger to caress the hairline trigger, waiting for the right moment his reticule went red.

It went red.

He smiled.

The fighter exploded, showering Atton's fighter with debris of superheated solar panel and fuselage, as he poured through it.

_Two down, two to go_, he grinned.

The Sith were definitely growing sloppy.

The two Sith fighters spiraled away, leaving the courier to travel unchallenged into the hold of the dissident capital ship.

Carth and Atton moved to intercept the pair of fighters as new energy and strength surged through them.

In a matter of moments, the Sith fighters were nothing but debris and hot gas.

The Republic and Mandalorian fleet had moved to engage the falling Sith numbers.

Carth and Atton moved to engage the _Leviathan_, the flagship where the Mandalorians had begun concentrating their fire on.

As the pair made their way towards the now battered and _single_ mandible vessel, their sensors lit up with a new group of signals.

AR3 tooted and whistled once more, indicating the group as friendly forces.

Republic reinforcements had finally arrived.

"_It's about blasted time_," Carth muttered through the open channel, watching as the forces proceeded to pummel the depleted Sith remnant.

Atton could only smile. His eyes shifted towards something that seemed to appear from the belly of the _Leviathan_, but he couldn't be sure, as the warship tore apart, exploding and sending molten chunks floating everywhere, crashing into a few vessels and catching some unfortunate pilots in the process.

* * *

Mandalore looked out at the combat, watching as his forces and Revan's forces doled out harsh punishment against the battered Sith remnants.

"_Mandalore_," Bralor spoke from the other command vessel, "_we've identified a new group of vessels—they're Republic_."

Mandalore nodded at the blue figure and then turned back to the battle in front of his cold, steel grey eyes behind the black mask.

"Should we move to intercept?" Kex asked, his voice eager and containing a trace of some malice towards the Republic.

"No, we won't engage the Republic—they're our allies, Kex. You'd do well to remember that." He balled a fist. _Fool, there is plenty honour to gain in this battle already—don't let your pride get in the way of that. The wars occurred a long time ago._

The blue-clad Mandalorian grunted, tapping the keys and undoubtedly grumbling under his breath.

Mandalore smiled. "Have all of our vessels converge on the _Leviathan_—it's time to return the relic to its dark past."

"For Mandalore!" A young Mandalorian screamed, followed by others carrying the chant.

He smirked, watching as his Basilisk fighters and Jedi fighters converged on the failing Sith assault, beating them into submission and turning them into a battered mass.

Mandalore felt his strength and pride rise as he watched the destruction of several Sith cruisers.

The destroyers continued to hammer out energy, claiming a few fighters here and there, but obviously failing against the renewed might of the Clans and the bolstered Republic battle group.

This would be a day long remembered.

He took special interest in noting that his flagship, the _Might of Ordo_, led the assault, watching as the _Leviathan_ lost its lower mandible, causing the Mandalorian's smirk to broaden into a smile as he remembered Malak.

Malak's former flagship's maw had lost its lower jaw as well.

Rivulets of explosions coursed along the massive Interdictor, leading all the way to the bridge as it exploded in a brilliant array of light and molten debris.

In a matter of moments, most of the Sith forces had crumbled under the might of the Clans.

This was truly going to be a day long remembered.

* * *

Visas grunted from the kick that sent her crashing into a wall. She managed to regain her senses quickly, even as sharp pain exploded in the back of her head, ducking and hearing the sizzling sound of molten durasteel from the crimson lightsaber Torn drove into the wall, where she had been but moments before.

The Revanite removed his lightsaber, only to gasp as he was kicked in the stomach and sent back.

Visas rose, twirling her lightsaber and aligning it adjacently from her hips.

The clone eyed her intently. "Your skills are to be commended," he spoke approvingly.

Visas found herself panting as she continued to draw more heavily on the Force, relying on it to guide her hand. She had never had the opportunity to face Revan and even if she had the desire to, she knew that facing the shell of the former Dark Lord was chance enough to know that she would _never_ stand a chance against the full might of the human.

The figure scowled behind the mask when he realized she wouldn't speak. He thrust his blade out at her, catching her silver blade.

She continued to block his dazzling flurries, swinging both sides of her lightsaber to ensure the Sith never struck her.

He angled his lightsaber when he lunged, allowing Visas to guide it around and attempt to behead him. He smiled as she managed to bring it around to her right shoulder. He lunged closer and scored a minor hit on her shoulder, grazing her arm.

Visas gasped while she strafed back, bringing her left arm to her right shoulder. She breathed sharply as she felt the searing heat, even though it was a minor wound.

Torn brought his lightsaber up, circling her as if she were nothing more than sport to him.

Visas continued to circle him, ensuring he wouldn't get behind her guard or have her back turned to him. He was powerful—even for a shard of Revan.

Torn lunged again, hoping to score a critical strike, even as the Miraluka turned and guided his blade away from her.

She pirouetted around him, thrusting out with the other end of her blade and slicing through nothing but air.

Torn leapt over her, twisting his body so he could behead her.

She dove from him, hearing the thrumming of his lightsaber near her ear as she rolled away and rose, turning to face him again.

He landed on both feet, facing her. He growled. No one had ever stood against him for this long.

Then again, he never had to fight anyone by himself.

_Brother, what's taking you so long?_ He sent through the telepathic link.

_These two are far more stronger and resourceful than I had expected, Brother_, Horn replied a few moments later.

Torn frowned behind his mask. He could feel the emotions bubbling on the surface of his twin and knew that these fights had gone on for far longer than either had expected.

Seizing his lapse, Visas struck, whirring her blade around her, forming an impenetrable barrier of lacerating energy, while she continued flurrying relentlessly at the Sith.

Torn found himself hard-pressed for a moment, raising his blade to block her deft movements. He shifted his head away from the jutting end of her lightsaber, narrowly evading death.

Both Jedi let out primal growls as their blades continued to clash. They continued to move towards the bow of the _Krayt_, heading towards the bridge.

They continued their rampage unchecked, leaving scores of molten floor panels or wall surfaces.

Visas continued to tire out, feeling her energy being sapped quickly as Torn continued to meet her blade for blade.

The assassin appeared not to be bothered in the slightest, though the Miraluka knew better.

Taking a large step back, Torn gathered all of his strength and swung his lightsaber over his head, hoping to break her defences in a power attack.

Feeling his movements shift in the Force, she took a step back, positioning one silver shaft towards him and placing both of her hands closer to the furthest side of her hilt.

Torn failed to notice the feint and swung.

Visas brought the less stable shaft of energy to her left side, guiding the crimson blade towards her. She sidestepped and with the flick of a finger, deactivated the silver shaft of energy closest to her body and completed her circle, slashing around her.

Torn gasped as he felt a quick, sharp pain course along the back of his right rib cage to his left. He watched a fine mist of blood spray away before he fell to the ground, in two pieces.

Visas deactivated her blade, bending down and resting her elbows on her thighs as she breathed heavily.

_

* * *

Brother! Horn screamed, as he felt a crushing void weigh down on him._

Jolee and Frreral continued their assaults on the assassin, both of their energy blades clashing against the assassin's sole blade.

Horn continued to scream, as his blades met theirs. In his pain, he sent the pair flying back, as control panels around him shattered and sparked. He still continued to scream as the pain overwhelmed him.

Jolee rose, shaking his head. That was when he felt it—the profound void that accompanied him. He exhaled deeply. He knew Visas had somehow managed to kill the other one, which somehow caused this one to move all over the place screaming in pain.

Frreral rose, bringing a large wookiee paw to his head. "Feels like a ronto paraded on me," he muttered.

"Yeah, and it's coming from _him_," Jolee said, pointing his emerald blade towards the creature.

Horn continued to walk around in circles, ignoring the pair of Jedi that began to rise, as he screamed out for his brother. "Where are you? I can't feel you!" He dropped his lightsaber, the energy receding back into the clattering hilt as it rolled across the floor.

"What's going on?" Frreral asked the older Jedi, in a tone very much lower than a normal wookiee would have asked.

Jolee brought his lightsaber up, and shifted his face somewhat closer to the wookiee. "I don't know—but I think it's got something to do with the Revan clone that Visas had to fight."

Frreral looked at the Jedi Master. "She killed him?"

"Seems like it," he said, his tone filled with pride and more respect for the Miraluka and her skills.

Horn brought his hands to his head, near the temples and put pressure on it as he screamed out in pain and for his brother who didn't reply.

Jolee felt the Force gather around the now unstable assassin. "I think we better make this quick before he points the finger at us."

Horn stopped and removed his mask, revealing the young, hate-filled face that was Revan. His piercing blue eyes, however, belied the bewildered feelings and crazed feelings he now harboured. "_You_," he spat, "somehow _you _are to blame!"

"I think we're too late," Jolee muttered.

Both Jedi readied their blades.

* * *

Dante continued his wobbly trajectory while his vessel's shields continued to absorb every stray blast that came his way. _Almost there,_ he muttered in his mind, as the klaxons blared in the background, signifying minor hull breaches, broken panels and anything else that continued to fall apart under the energy blasts.

_Almost there._

His hands struggled to hold the controls while his eyes darted all over the control panels, watching a new group of flashing signals that sprung up from all over the board. _Oh she's not going to last…_ He shook his head and moved one hand away from the yoke and towards the throttle, shoving it forward, only to be rewarded with the sputtering whine of the engines as they released more energy.

Structural integrity alarms began to blare, signaling that the engines' protests were beginning to take notice.

The courier's engines were expelling so much energy in its propulsion that it threatened to fly past the actual courier vessel.

His eyes lit up with the promise of the growing size of the bay doors in front of him. Someone had left it open and he couldn't help but smile.

It was short-lived, however, for the controls exploded and a shower of sparks flew all over him, causing the Jedi to bring his hands to cover his face in an attempt to protect himself.

The courier, however, continued its trajectory, both from the pull of the capital ship's gravity and the engines that continued to groan as they began to tear apart under the strain.

Dante found himself being thrown about all over, as the ship crashed into the hangar bay, sliding and hitting the crates and other ships still docked there.

While his body continued to feel like it were a ball of flimsiplast, his hands struggled to fly over the controls in the hopes of shutting down the engines.

Sith officers ran all about the deck, hoping not to be crushed under the impact of the ship or debris that flew all over the hangar.

Dante slammed his fist into a control panel and ignored the pain that coursed over his hand as he heard the engines shut down in an emergency override.

He sat there for a few moments, as the ship lay in a tangled mess throughout the hangar bay, with knocked over supply crates, weapons canisters and Sith vessels knocked around.

His head ached and he slumped in his chair, thankful the crash webbing had saved his life. "They sure don't make them like they used to," he muttered, as a few sparks flew here and there.

Groaning, he unbuckled himself and rose, his hands eagerly supporting him on whatever seemed strong enough to support his weight.

Shaking himself out of what he felt was the worst of it; Dante moved his hands to produce a lightsaber.

He felt nothing where his lightsaber would have been and only when his gaze met the empty holster did he remember that he had lost it in the confrontation with that relatively strong Sith. "Oh, for the love of…"

He was cut off as he heard the mechanical whines of energy weapons being discharged.

His eyes went wide, remembering where he was.

He fumbled for his blaster, hoping it would prove to be more than enough to hold the Sith soldiers at bay. He was thankful that he at least had something to defend himself with. He was far more grateful it was a Mandalorian weapon in the least. Withdrawing the pistol, Dante brought it up, using his right hand to steady his left as he continued to make his way to the exit.

"I'm never going to do that again," he muttered. "Next time, I'm getting Atton to pilot this heap of junk."

The sounds of blasterfire could be heard again as it lanced into the twisted hull of the vessel.

"What I wouldn't give for a lightsaber right about now," he muttered again, this time taking a firm grip on his blaster as he looked for an opening.

He could smell the tangy scent of scrubbed air. There was a hole or leak in the ship to let him know that there was some way off the vessel. He could only hope he could get to it in time.

It would only be a short time span before the Sith lobbed grenades.

He threw some empty containers around and found the hatch of the ship.

It was right above him.

The hull sputtered with the blasts of energy hitting it. A faint orange blur was starting to form around the hull where he stood.

He grimaced. "Oh not good." He looked up, hoping to find some form of latch he could shoot out.

His eyes continued to search for it as more concentrated energy fire began to build up on the hull.

The door seemed to be an entire square with only a circular lock emplaced on the center of it.

The only problem was that the lock seemed to be imbedded within the door.

"A lightsaber would be good right about now," he murmured again, as his eyes shifted back to the faint orange blur that began to grow far more brighter.

He looked for a grenade, or anything that would help him blast the lock.

To his surprise, he found three plasma grenades.

_Not exactly your standard way of breaking out, but hopefully this will do_, he thought ruefully as he picked up two and tucked them into his belt, while he struggled to pile the crates on top of one another.

With Force-augmented strength, he managed to pile the crates as high as he could towards the door, hoping that this farfetched plan of his would work. His eyes shifted to the orange blow.

Somehow, they were coming through.

He ignored the beads of sweat that began to form on his brow and under his armpits, as he charged the third and placed it as close to the hatch as possible.

_Now I get to see if I fry or find freedom_. He turned and raced towards the cockpit and ducked under his chair, as the grenade was going to go critical in under ten seconds.

_Nine._

_Eight._

_Seven._

_Six_, he couldn't help but peak at the latch.

_Five._

_Four_, his eyes shifted to the control board and back to the door.

_Three._ His eyes went wide. _Where are the fuel pods and the reactor?_

_Two._

_Oh Sithspit._

_One._

The grenade went off, forming a spherical red haze, as electrical systems fried and the crates melted under the heat.

To his surprise, the explosion had been minimal.

He rose and moved towards the area, extending his hand and throwing away the molten slag of crates and components. He looked up and saw a neat hole of molten metal. Dante couldn't help but smirk at the thought of his imminent freedom.

He glanced at the growing orange glow and he knew that it would any second before they cut through.

He looked up and grabbed his pistol in his left hand and a grenade in his right.

_Here goes nothing_.

He leapt out of the hole, as the melting hole opened wide. He twisted his body and thumbed the switch of the grenade, and threw it towards the group of Sith that was attempting to cut through the ship.

* * *

**Author's Notes: And now things are reaching its boiling point. I've got a few more chapters left for this, and I'd like to take the time and thank you all for being patient with me, thus far. Next up, we'll see Dante and Visas reunite, Frreral and Jolee duke it out with Horn and finally, what happens to the annoying General Erik Scrimshaw...**


	44. Hollow Victory

_Hollow Victory _

Frreral was thrown back into the wall, grunting as he connected to it.

Jolee brought his lightsaber towards his Wookiee companion, deflecting the killing blow that would have ended Frreral's life.

His rage growing, along with his hysteria, Horn backhanded Jolee, forcing the older Jedi to stumble back dazed. Seizing the moment, Horn brought his lightsaber over his head and slashed down, hoping to end the old man's life once and for all.

Frreral growled and extended his hands, sending Horn flying into a wall, buying both he and Jolee enough time to rise and grab their lightsabers, igniting them the moment the worn grips came into their hands.

"Thanks," Jolee muttered, leveling his blade to meet Horn, who—along with his ire—was now rising.

"Anytime," Frreral replied, poising himself ready to take the Sith.

"Now!" Jolee screamed.

The pair of Jedi rushed Horn, forcing the Sith to bring his lightsaber around him, creating an impenetrable barrier of lacerating energy.

Horn snarled as his arms raced to deflect each and every strike the pair of old and weaker Jedi sent his way. _I am far more powerful than them! Why am I losing?_ He continued to take a step back every chance he had, knowing that he was giving ground while that void continued to weigh down on him.

Unlike Rena, he had never been taught to suppress the bond with his twin. Now it was being used against him.

Frreral slashed down, hoping to cleave his opponent, only to find his feet in the air.

Horn crouched, extending his legs and pivoted around, knocking the Wookiee Jedi out of the fight for a moment.

Jolee furrowed his brow, knowing that he couldn't very well take on the Revan clone on his own, even if the clone was in his weakened state.

Seeing the older Jedi pause for a brief second, Horn seized the moment, lunging at the Jedi Master.

Jolee managed to bring his lightsaber up in time, deflecting the strike and countering with his elbow snapping into Horn's temple.

The assassin stumbled and turned around, only to be greeted by the furry fist of a very angry Wookiee.

Grunting, Horn found himself cast several feet away, landing on his back. He groaned for a moment, casting aside the pain that wracked across his body. The void continued to press down on him.

"Let's end this," Frreral said, watching Horn rise and ignite his lightsaber for the final time.

This would be the final defining moment to determine who would walk out alive.

Poising their blades, the pair of Jedi waited until Horn lunged at them a final time.

"I won't be defeated! I will make you pay for the death of my brother!" He cried out; spittle flying everywhere as he raced towards them.

Both Jedi met him with their own charge, hoping they would complete their mission.

He met them blade for blade, as the room dazzled with the trio of colours and molten panels that sizzled and flew all over the deck.

This was _his_ moment to shine.

_He _would exact all vengeance for what they did to Torn.

Horn realized at the point he would stop at nothing until he eliminated all Jedi—Traya be damned.

Ducking from one of his swings, Jolee pirouetted and slammed the younger man in the face with his elbow.

Frreral locked blades with the Sith and shoved him back.

Horn found the truth within his mind. He wouldn't be defeated. He smiled, knowing he had one trick left up his sleeve.

Both Jedi attacked Horn with all the strength, speed and hope they could muster against the clone, knowing full well what would lie before the rest of the Galaxy if they failed here and now.

The trio continued to fight as a blur. Each of their strikes was nothing more than flurry after flurry, as they raced towards the engineering deck of the vessel.

Jolee managed to block the slash to decapitate him, struggling against the strength of the young Sith who continued to bear down on him.

Attempting to take the chance to cut him down, Frreral slashed across the Sith's back, only to find his face connected with the sole of Horn's boot.

Jolee glanced, only to feel a sharp searing pain rake across his shoulder. He gasped and lost his grip, which gave Horn more time to sweep the old man's feet off the floor.

Landing on his back, dazed and in pain, Jolee couldn't help but notice the crimson shaft raising high into the air and ready to cut him to pieces.

Rising slowly, Frreral's eyes shot open as he laid witness to the might of the Revanite.

_I will have my vengeance_, Horn thought deliciously, his blade high over his head. "Now you will die, old man." The blade came bearing down.

The void's crushing weight finally fell.

He let out a gasp as hot energy cauterized his body.

Jolee glanced away from Horn and to the golden lightsaber that had appeared just to Horn's right rib cage.

"But—I—had—vengeance," Horn managed, before he fell to the ground in two pieces.

Jolee let out a sigh of relief and glanced at the furry paw that appeared out of nowhere. Taking it, he rose and dusted himself off. "What took you so long?" He couldn't help but ask the Wookiee, as he called his blade to his hand.

* * *

Dante fired one shot into the faceplate of his first opponent and then another, followed by two more quick taps to the trigger that sent his foe down in a smoking heap.

He grimaced slightly, but he couldn't help but admire the power of the weapon in his hand. "If only lightsabers had this kind of punch."

To reply to his murmur, a stray blaster bolt crashed into a panel behind him, causing him to duck for cover.

Several more blaster bolts crashed against his cover, but glanced harmlessly away.

After he had sent that second plasma grenade towards them when he had jumped out of the courier, they had burned up under the explosion, turning into molten armour or droid parts. Everything else that was biological had vapourized.

He sighed, taking care to check his power gauge. _Half-empty_, he thought mirthlessly. _Or half-full depending on your point of view._ He sighed. Closing his eyes, he felt the presence of the trio of Sith moving towards him slowly, almost cautiously.

It appeared they hadn't thought much of a Jedi with a blaster until he had actually killed most of their comrades.

They moved as one, rounding the bend of his cover. They brought their blasters to level on the lump of nothingness that was there.

"Where'd he go?" The lead Sith muttered.

The response that came surprised the trio.

A blaster bolt crashed into the back of the lead Sith's head, exiting with a little neat hole through his faceplate.

On instinct, the other two rolled away and turned, laying down crimson fire that glanced all over the hangar bay.

Dante rolled behind the crates where the Sith had been but a few moments prior to the switch. Before he could take any cover, however, his eyes caught a marking near to them that designated 'flammable.'

He could only smile.

The Sith continued to lay down fire, while they were slowly backing away.

"We need reinforcements!" Cried one of the soldiers into his comlink.

No reply was forthcoming.

They continued firing until the reached their cover and ran out of power.

"Reload!" The same soldier ordered.

Ejecting their packs with the precision of elite warriors, they slapped in new power packs and waited for them to charge, until they heard something clatter and roll.

"Do you hear that?" The other asked quietly.

"Yeah," the first one answered. "It's quiet."

"No," the second corrected. "There's something….rolling?"

"Rolling? What in the blazes do you mean?"

As if to answer the first's question, a small round object rolled right past them. Their eyes tracked it and it took a few moments to register what it was, until it clanked against the pod that said 'flammable.'

"Run!"

A loud explosion ripped through the hangar bay, sending a wave of heat towards Dante, sending the Knight flying back and surprisingly, out of harm's way.

The other two Sith, however, were not so lucky.

Landing on his back, Dante wiped his face that was covered in somewhat evapourated sweat. He ran his hand through his hair, glad to feel its presence and know that only few strands of his hair had been singed.

Out of grenades and low on ammunition, Dante rose and left the rest of the hangar, ignoring the maintenance droids that came by to attend to the situation in the hangar.

He continued his way throughout the corridors, trying to remember which hallway led to which area. He had spent some time aboard Republic cruisers, but that had been a few years ago. He had spent the last five on board the _Vaapad_.

His eyes caught a flickering panel and his moved to it, careful not to reveal his presence. He felt hardly anyone on board the ship, as it was already. He felt the few flickers of life, the distinct presences of his friends and the very faint whirls of energy that were the droids that were still stationed aboard the ship. Whatever Sith presence was on board the ship was now gone—either through the damage the ship was taking or through the end of a lightsaber or blaster bolt.

Sighing, Dante glanced at the panel and found that he was in the right corridor that would lead him to where he had seen Visas fighting for her life.

_Hold on, Visas_, he thought determinedly. _I'm coming for you._ _I won't let you down._ He began to race through the hallways, evading debris and bodies alike.

Rounding a bend, Dante managed a lucky shot as he was caught between a pair of droids that glanced at him and took a moment to register that he was an intruder.

Luckily the first blast had caused the amphibian designed droid to call in its defensive mode, raising its shields and taking a step back before it used its 'arms' to propel it forward.

He raced back, avoiding the fire that lanced around him, slamming into consoles.

Almost on instinct, the Jedi turned around and fired rapidly towards a damaged console, overloading it and causing the power to surge.

The electric field glittered over the pair of droids, causing a pair of small explosions under the optical sensors, forcing the droids' shields to flicker once, then twice and fade.

Seizing the moment, Dante quickly fired into the optical sensor of the first droid he attacked and took pride in it exploding and sending a shower of debris over its comrade.

Dante managed to roll away, only to crash into the back of a wall. Landing on his bottom, he moaned and quickly rose, accidentally thumbing a switch on the pistol without so much as noticing it.

The second droid continue to make its way towards him, firing its occasional blaster his way.

The Jedi managed to take cover amongst the debris and fallen bodies, before he took aim and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing came out.

"What in the blazes?" He managed before he heard a whine that slowly grew louder.

His eyes went wide as a large ball of energy shot forth from the blaster and slammed right into the droid, tearing away through the plating and causing its power cell to ignite, detonating the droid all over the hallway.

Bringing his hands to cover him, Dante avoided most of the debris that rained over him, save for a few scratches from the sharper and smaller parts of the dead droid.

He rose after a moment, his eyes roaming the scene before him. He glanced at his blaster and then back to the hallway.

His eyes strayed once more to the blaster before the ship shuddered slightly.

"I wonder what other surprises this baby has." He brought the blaster closer to his eyes, surveying the power gauge on it. He frowned.

The blaster pack was empty.

Ejecting it, he quickly removed another one from his belt and slapped it into place and let the gauge read it. "Come on," he whispered urgently, as he cautiously continued his trek down the hallway.

There was nothing else on the level he was on.

Satisfied he was alone; Dante picked up his pace and raced towards the corridor that led him to a four-way junction. His eyes roamed over the set of fallen bodies, until he began to notice a peculiar pattern about them.

They were all lying down in an almost circular pattern and there were gaping lightsaber wounds through their chests.

Normally, Jedi wouldn't kill their opponents, but these Sith struck him as something far more sinister and threatening if they were to be killed in the dishonourable manner they were.

He glanced across to their hands and he couldn't help but smirk. His gaze shifted to his pistol and he whispered, "as much as I love how you work, you're no lightsaber. I'll put you away for another time." He holstered the weapon and picked up one of the Sith's lightsabers. Rolling it around in his hand, he couldn't help but admire the overall quality of the lightsaber, despite the generic design.

His thumb tapped the activation plate and with a _snap-hiss_, a crimson shaft of energy shot forth, bathing the immediate area around him in a pale red glow.

"Most interesting," he couldn't help but say. "But now's not the time for petty admirations." His eyes roamed across the hallways, taking care to look for the scars of battle or cooled cuts in the flooring and walls. To his luck, he found several sears across the panels and bulkheads of the hallway that led to one area: the bridge. With as much speed as he could muster, Dante raced towards the bridge, hoping he would be able to get to Visas in time.

* * *

General Erik Scrimshaw jumped back from a console that exploded, sending sparks across its already dead control officer.

He looked back at space, ignoring the acrid smoke that filled the room and the alarms that were blaring all around him.

Beyond the _Krayt_ lay the debris of vessels that had once been a part of his mighty fleet.

His fleet—and that of the Sith—had collapsed under the relentless fire of the Mandalorians and the Republic.

"How could this happen?" His eyes roamed the broken vessels that lay before him and around him.

Several were still on fire.

"How? How could this happen?"

"It was the Jedi," one of the remaining Sith soldiers said.

"The Jedi?" Erik hissed. "What do you mean 'the Jedi?'"

The soldier took an involuntary step back, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. It hardly occurred to him that he still had his blaster in his hand. "I was merely saying that the Jedi bolstered the Republic, sir."

Erik growled and in a blur an energy discharge came from his hand.

The Sith fell to the floor on his back, leaving a neat hole through his sternum.

"We had the _Sith_! They're more powerful than the Jedi!"

The other soldiers stared at one another and then glanced back at their leader, who had now proven that he was as unstable as they had previously assessed.

He glanced at the others, his officer's blaster still smoking from the energy it discharged from its barrel. "Anyone else have any bright ideas?"

No one said anything.

"Thought so."

He glanced back to the floating debris and the ship shuddered.

The Republic was coming.

Suddenly a console went online and began to beep.

His head perked up. _The Mistress! She'll know what to do._ _We won't be beaten yet._

He turned around to order his remaining men to take stations, but he found none standing where they had been but a few short moments ago.

"Cowards," he spat, before he turned towards the console. He spotted a slumped figure on the console. It had been the officer he had spoken to before the battle had even begun.

Now it was all coming to an end.

He threw the body aside and looked at the console.

_Activate Final Phase—terminate planets._

_Confirm Order._

He smiled. _This is it!_ He set his blaster aside and wiped his sweat and soot stained chin and typed in a confirmation order.

_All warheads active._

He typed in another command to detonate the warheads.

_All warheads will be detonated. Set Timer._

He smiled. "If I go down, so will your vaunted Republic, Onasi."

"I don't think so," came a startling voice, that caused him to jump and turn around, knocking his blaster to the ground in the process.

She stood there, with her veil covering her face, her lightsaber in hand and the unspoken threat standing there.

He glanced at her and took an involuntary step back, his hands behind him, tapping at something.

_Timer cancelled. _

_Confirm remote detonation?_

"You're too late. I hold the final key to destroying the Republic." His eyes shifted around him, careful not to attract the attention of the Jedi. He was almost sure she was blind. If so, then she wouldn't much of a problem. The only issue he had was that he had never encountered a Jedi who was blind.

"You're lying," she replied, her voice calm.

"Are you so certain?"

She was silent for a moment, an expression of serene calm on her face.

His eyes roamed around, looking for something he could catch her with. He couldn't reach for his blaster, knowing that it would take too long. But he did feel something else behind him—on the console. It was long and metallic, cut off into a shard. It was most likely something from the ceiling, but right now, it would help him.

She took a step towards him, her voice soft and almost like a whisper. "You don't want to do this, General. It's over, you've lost. You can still save your life and countless others."

He shook his head, "no, it's not over and I would rather die. Stay where you are—otherwise I'll activate the bombs!"

She shook her head and with a casual gesture, he was sent flying over to the other side, the sharp metallic rod flying away from his grasp.

He landed on the ground, with several pieces of debris driving into him, causing him to moan in pain. Rising, his eyes caught the glitter of something metallic. Focusing on it, he saw one of the Sith troopers' swords lay just before him.

Visas walked towards the console, typing in a command to deactivate it. The only problem was that it was now all or nothing. She typed in a command that returned the program to its root menu.

_Deactivate warheads?_

She tapped in a key that would signify the ending of the warheads. Before she could complete the sequence however, she heard Erik rise, dragging a metallic item with him.

She had no doubt it was a sword.

"Get away from there!" He screamed, lunging at her.

Moving swiftly, she avoided the tip of the blade, as it went into the console's screen, cracking and causing tendrils of electricity to run through the sword and into Erik Scrimshaw.

By his own hand, he had prevented the Sith trump card of destroying the Republic.

He screamed and groaned as rivulets of electricity ran through his body, causing him to slowly char and smoke.

Ignoring the sickly scent of cooking meat, she extended her hand and sent the burnt form of Erik Scrimshaw away from the console.

She couldn't help but shake her head in pity at the figure, as he lay there, moaning and whimpering from the pain that wracked his body.

He occasionally twitched, his eyes closed, as he continued to take unbearable pain.

She sighed, and moved away from the console, glancing at the tightly knit battle group of the Republic heading towards the battered capital ship.

The ship began to shudder again and again, with the promise of the Republic destroying the ship.

She turned around, hearing the sound of feet racing towards her. Activating her lightsaber, she prepared herself, only to see a human and a Wookiee ignite their lightsabers.

The expression on Jolee's face said it all. "Oh, it's just you. Left anyone else alive?"

She couldn't help but smirk in a very uncharacteristic manner. "Yes," she said, turning around, only to see that Scrimshaw had appeared to stop breathing. She frowned. She could feel that there was something not right. There was a whole familiarity about everything, but she couldn't be sure.

"Looks like we're too late," Frreral uttered, his hands quickly holding himself up near the wall as the ship lurched and a console sparked.

Jolee inhaled sharply, his face contorting into disgust. "What's that smell?"

"Smells good," Frreral replied.

"It was him," Visas said, pointing towards the unmoving figure of the General.

Before Frreral could mutter something else, the ship lurched again, signaling an array of warning lights that were left to be read on the few remaining consoles in the bridge.

"That's it—it's our time to go," Jolee muttered. He ran into the bridge and jumped over a few consoles. "The Republic's coming to destroy this ship and we're on it! We've done all we can, and it's obvious Bastila has the fleet in tip-top shape!"

They began to run towards the escape hatch and stopped for a moment.

"Get in," Visas said. "I'll signal a retreat for anyone who is left aboard."

"Trust me, Visas, anyone left in here has got to be working for the Sith."

The ship continued to shudder, blowing open a panel along the group of hatches.

"We need to go, now!" Frreral growled.

Jolee jumped into the pod, followed shortly by Frreral.

Visas began to move into the pod when she gasped.

"Visas?" Jolee called out. "What's the delay, we need to go."

The vision had caught up to her. The reason why she had stayed back was because Dante was on board, looking for _her_.

"Dante," she whispered.

"What? Visas, we have no time to discuss this; we'll talk to him when we leave to the ship. Come on."

She shook her head and stepped out. "No, Jolee. Dante is _aboard_ right now! I can feel him."

"Wait! Visas!" Jolee screamed, watching her step back and slam down on a console, sealing the pod and launching it.

"I'm sorry," she replied, her voice soft and regretful. "But I have to find him and get him off the ship."

Almost as if to dispute the subject, the ship shuddered roughly.

She sighed. Her vision was coming true, but something didn't feel right.

A scent of smoked meat began to waft into her nostrils and before she could figure out what it was, a sharp, fiery pain ran across her back. She cried out, as the glint of metal drove out of her stomach.

In a blur, it was removed and she was sent falling to the ground, weightlessly.

"Thought you could escape without me, huh?" He growled, kicking her hard in her wound, causing the Miraluka to cry out in pain and pull her back into reality.

The scent of burnt flesh permeated from his body. He was charred, but he was still alive. Erik Scrimshaw kicked her hard again and slashed his blade across her back.

She cried out, her lightsaber had clattered to the ground, away from her. She tried to reach for it with one of her hands.

"Thought you could destroy my victory huh?" He stomped on her hand, taking pleasure in her scream and the cracking of bones in her hand. "If I am going down, you're coming with me."

She rolled over, watching him through the Force almost as if he were the being in which all of the Dark Side flocked to. In that brief moment, he was.

He smiled, laughing, despite the pain, as he removed his small holdout blaster and pointed it to her. "If I go, then you'll just have to follow me." His finger slipped to the hairline trigger, the barrel pointing towards her. "It only seems fitting." He smiled again, just before he was sent off his feet, flying away and crashing far from Visas.

"Dante," she managed, her voice weak, as blood pooled around her.

"No," he whispered, his eyes wide with fear. "Visas…" He looked back up to the rising figure of Scrimshaw, the lightsaber still ignited.

"You'll pay for that, wench," Erik muttered, the pain racing all over him with each movement he made. He stopped midway, looking at the Jedi before him with his crimson blade. "Ah, it seems one of my allies made it after all." He leaned on one of the walls, glancing at Dante. "Finish her."

A crimson glow bathed all over the room. The shadows covered Dante's eyes, and his hair covered much of his face. He knelt down to Visas, caressing her cheek softly. "Visas," he whispered. Rage was beginning to take him. Sorrow was building within his heart as he relived another painful moment of watching someone he cared about die before his very eyes. _Not again! I won't let it happen again!_

She only groaned, her body in so much pain, while she continued to lose blood.

He rose, looking at the battered form of the General. Rage was taking him. He walked towards him, snarling as he brought his hands up, the lightsaber slicing off one of the General's arms.

Before he knew it, his arm had gone flying off, followed by immense pain. Erik howled, falling to his knees as the Jedi before him deactivated and cast the blade away.

"Never again!" He cried out, picking the General up and slamming his fist across Erik's right jaw, sending him sprawling back.

He cried out in pain, and stumbled to get up.

Dante walked towards him kicking him in the stomach and driving his fist into the back of the Erik's skull, dazing the General.

Dante no longer cared about the Light Side or Dark Side.

All he cared about was feeling Erik's death come from his bare hands.

He cried out in more pain, feeling his hot tears falling across his cheek. The Jedi was beating him mercilessly, and without the aid of the Force. The pain was too much for him.

The Jedi no longer cared about anything else. He wanted to make his foe feel pain. He wanted to make Erik feel the very suffering he had caused to the Jedi Knight. Dante wanted to give the General every bit of pain he had welled up inside of him.

Dante picked Erik up by the throat, "you will pay!" He grabbed the General's remaining arm and broke his fingers, eliciting more howling and shrieking from the General.

"Dante," she whispered, while she heard him yelling at the General while he hit him. _Oh Dante,_ she couldn't help but think. _Don't do it, Dante. Please, don't_.

He continued to beat the General, twisting his arm and breaking it. Dante was death incarnate.

He was pain, he was suffering, he was everything that he was trained never to be.

Erik screamed out in more pain, falling to the ground.

Dante kicked him and sent him towards the far corner of the wall. His voice was cold, measured by the amount of raw hatred he had building up with each and every blow he delivered to the General. "Stay right there, I'm coming back with a gift."

He turned to walk away, to pick up the holdout blaster, but he stopped when he saw Visas, still laying there with her blood around her and pulling him back into the reality of things. "Visas," he managed, ignoring the tears that coursed down his cheek. He knelt towards her, "please, Visas, don't die."

She gasped, coughing, the blood forming at the corner of her lips. "Dante, don't do it. Don't….don't…give…don't give…in."

He held her close to him, her head resting on his thigh as he knelt there, his forehead to hers. "You'll be safe—you'll be all right. I'm sorry, Visas. Don't do this. Don't leave me. I can't let you die."

"You won't," she whispered. "Don't fall…stay strong."

"I can't, you have to live," he pleaded. "Stay with me, don't—everything will be—please, don't go." He held her close, his tears falling on her.

She felt the warmth of his body, his breath and his tears as he continued to hold her close to him.

"I can save you—I know I can," he whispered fiercely. He touched her wound and willed her to heal, touching her body through the Force and feeling her spirit, fading as quickly as it was, touch his.

"Save…your…strength," she whispered, her skin going horribly pale.

"Visas, don't go. I can save you! I know I can!" He continued to touch through the Force, willing her to live, feeling her cells slowly regenerate. He was growing tired, the damage to his body from earlier fights was taking its toll, as well as the exertion in aiding her. He continued through the Force to will her cells to regenerate and heal her wound, feeling them slowly, but surely fixing her body.

"Dante," she whispered. "I'm…it's…too…late."

He shook his head, shushing her, "it will be all right. Stay with me, Visas." He could feel her life ebbing away, despite his best efforts. "Don't go, not yet. You're going to live," he repeated firmly. His vision began to grow blurry, whether from exertion or the tears, he could not be sure.

Her cells slowly began to regenerate, closing the wounds in her midsection.

Dante continued to give her his own life force, feeling his body growing weaker, as hers was slowly growing stronger. "Stay with me, Visas," he muttered, holding her tightly to him as his hand continued to touch her wound until the flesh had repaired itself.

He could feel her through the Force again, much stronger.

And then it came.

Weariness and pain wracking all over his body.

He gasped and tumbled to the ground, beside her, as her cooled blood embraced him.

The ship continued to shudder, explosions rocking throughout the interior and exterior of the ship.

He felt all of his wounds opened, including most of the ones he had from years ago.

The scars on his chest split open, pouring out his own blood.

He could feel his own life fading away.

_Come on, Dante_, whispered an urgent voice. _Stay strong. Live. Trust in the Force. You need to get up and go, now!_

"Master?" He whispered, looking for the man who had been as close to a father he had ever known.

_Go, Dante! Take Visas and leave! _

The voice continued to echo around him. He turned to face Visas, whose pallor was returning to normal. He tried to move, but felt his body in immense pain, from all of the wounds that had reopened. His world blurred for a moment, the blood loss becoming a reality for him.

_Run, Dante!_

The ship shuddering brought him back into reality.

His eyes shot wide, and he turned to face Scrimshaw, who sat there, dazed in shock.

Dante rolled over, seeing Visas, still weak, but breathing normally. Gathering whatever strength he could, he rose, resting on the same metallic blade that had been used on her for support. Grabbing one of her arms, he pulled her as close to him as possible and began to drag himself towards an open hatch.

Gasping from the increase in weight and the sudden strain on all of his muscles, the Jedi continued to drag Visas towards the pod, placing her safely within. He fell back onto the floor, outside of the pod, as the ship continued to shudder.

His world began to blur and spin around him.

Using whatever strength he could, he rose on all fours, picking up Visas' lightsaber in the process. Tossing it into the pod, he held himself up to glance at the fallen traitor.

There was no hope for Erik Scrimshaw, who sat there, lost in his own mind.

The ship began to shudder and a loud cracking sound was heard throughout the ship.

Dante collapsed, his consciousness fading. He slowly began to crawl into the pod, sinking his feet away from the hatch and slammed on a key, sealing it from the ship.

* * *

Jolee watched as the Republic fleet pummeled the _Krayt_ to pieces, exploding.

"Was she…?" Frreral asked, watching the fleet surround the explosion.

He shook his head. "I don't know."

They both lowered their heads in honour of Visas and Dante. They could feel that the loss of them both would be profound. They had made it so far, only to be lost in the final moments.

"They were good people," Jolee whispered.

Before Frreral could mutter anything else, the pod shuddered.

Jolee fell back, screaming out obscenities. "What the--?"

"We're caught in a tractor beam!" They both looked up at the hatch as they were pulled towards a Republic ship.

After a few moments, the pod shuddered again, as a rattling sounded around the pod. They had been pulled aboard the ship.

The pod began to open and the pair of Jedi came out, only to be greeted by a number of Republic soldiers with their blasters trained on the ship.

Jolee cocked a brow, "is this some way to greet your allies?"

"Stand down!" Someone yelled. "They're with us!" They came running out, revealing Carth and Atton, with Bastila and Dustil in pursuit.

Carth nodded to Jolee, smiling with relief. "Good to see you again."

Atton looked around, his brow furrowed. "Where's Visas?"

Jolee and Frreral looked at each other and lowered their heads in shame.

"Visas and Dante were still on board that ship," he murmured to Carth.

They took an involuntary step back.

"Visas and Dante were aboard?" Carth ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at an officer. "Find out if there were any escape pods that were jettisoned at the last moment! Go now!"

The officer nodded and raced out of the chambers to follow the orders of his Admiral.

Atton was quiet, his mind reeling with the death of both of his friends, while Bastila brought a hand to her mouth.

They were all silent, sitting there as they mulled over the thoughts of the two Jedi that were their friends.

In all that time, no one had bothered to notice a small pod streak into the planet.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Yep, this was the final chapter in that brutal and drawn out Battle of Coruscant. I've got a handful of chapters left for _Catharsis_ now, so please, bare with me. I'd also like to thank everyone who's reviewed and I hope you've all enjoyed this thoroughly. Next up: what happens along the horizon? Uncertain fates for Dante, Visas and the Republic... and then there's the Sith...**


	45. Dawn of a New Era

_Dawn of a New Era _

It was a dark day for the Republic, which had now disassembled. The battle on Coruscant had opened the eyes of a great many senators and world leaders.

The fact the Sith had entered the battle and had been behind much of the chaos throughout the last few years was reason enough to show that the Republic—and the Jedi—was needed more than ever.

Surprisingly, there had been little opposition as the Jedi returned, especially since they were so instrumental in defeating the Sith before more lives had been lost.

The senators found to be aiding the Sith had all mysteriously disappeared during the cacophony of the battle, however there had been a great many reports of a shuttle full of senators had exploded as it was leaving Coruscanti airspace.

No one had bothered to look for the senators in the least. A falleen officer working for the Republic Intelligence had delivered the report to Chancellor Dodonna's office.

It had been several days after the Coruscant incident, and many lives had been lost in the process.

Admiral Onasi had managed to gather the Republic fleet, causing many of the weaker coalitions that had tried to trigger an armistice to think better of it and instead, seek to join whatever new coalition was in the process. Once more, the famed hero of the Republic had been one of the causes in preventing the complete collapse of the Republic.

Many senators, world leaders, corporations and other influential figures had begun to invest wealth and resources into the possible formation of another Galactic Union. There had been many offers of boosting the funds to the Restoration efforts, all in a bid to stay in the Republic.

The systems of the corrupt senators had elected new senators to take their places, and as a result, there was in increase in funding for the Restoration efforts that far outweighed any bid Czerka had cobbled together. The Ithorians had been given complete autonomy over the project, leaving other things to be rebuilt.

After the battle, a fighter group had managed to locate a downed pod near the Industrial sector in the metropolitan planet. A rescue crew and a heavily armed team had arrived, finding two wounded Jedi that were in critical condition.

Carth raced through the corridors of the hospital after he received the call two days after the Jedi were picked up. Bastila was right behind him.

He managed to reach the desk quickly, panting and out of breath. "Nurse, I need to find out where Visas Marr and Dante Ravenmoon are located."

The nurse, a male human, nodded and quickly pulled up the information on his terminal. He glanced at the Admiral and it took him a moment to realize it was the legendary Carth Onasi standing before him. "You're Carth--,"

"Onasi," the Admiral replied, still huffing. "Please, I need to know where they are. They're two Jedi—they were found in that escape pod."

The nurse nodded and continued to cycle through the list until he found their names. "They're located in the south wing—your last right at the end of this hallway."

Carth nodded in appreciation and ran down the hallway with Bastila in hot pursuit.

As the pair reached the far end of the hallway, they turned right and walked through the doors to a group of medical personnel.

Glancing at one of them, Carth asked, "where are the two Jedi that were found?"

One of the medical personnel pointed at the far corner through another pair of doors and the Republic heroes went through the doors, watching a group of kolto tanks with their respective patients healing within it. On the far end of the row were two tanks that carried the submerged bodies of Dante and Visas.

Carth exhaled in relief, while Bastila checked their vitals on the console.

"They're stable," she said, her voice quiet, but filled with relief. "I can still feel them through the Force, though Dante's presence is far stronger than Visas'." She glanced at Carth. "But they're all right."

"Thank the Force," he muttered, glancing at both half-naked Jedi, who appeared in suspended animation. "When are they going to be released?"

"Dante is completely healed. He just needs a checkup and a clean bill of health," a gruff voice spoke up behind the pair, startling them.

An old man walked out of the shadows, causing Carth and Bastila to smile in surprise, recognizing the dark skinned man with his white goatee and the mischievous smile on his face.

"Jolee!"

He nodded, "it's good to see you two as well." He looked at Dante and Visas and sighed. "Well, the boy will be fine, but as for her…" He glanced at Bastila and then Carth and lowered his head. "She'll have to be there for days, maybe weeks or even months."

"How bad was she when they found her?" Bastila asked, concern filling her voice.

He shrugged. "Well, when they found her, she had broken ribs, a few broken limbs, some internal bleeding and a lot of blood loss. Some of her organs were even cut up. It seems Dante had done the best he could to patch her up, giving some of his own life to her in the process."

Carth looked at the old man, who kept his gaze fixated on the floating body of the Jedi Knight. "So Dante is going to be well?"

Jolee nodded. "Physically, he's healthy." Tapping his own skull, Jolee added, "mentally, now _that's_ a different story."

Nodding slowly, the Admiral looked at one of the nurses at the other end of the hallway of tubes and said, "wake him."

_

* * *

He stood there, clad in his black robes and the wind at his back. The sun was setting on the tomb-like world of Korriban. His eyes were fixated on the tomb before him; its ebony doors beckoning him towards it, as a gateway to a new world for him._

_The breeze ruffled his hair, causing a few strands to fly into his eyes. He casually ignored it, biting his lower lip in hesitation with what he was about to do. _Wellhere goes nothing_, he couldn't help but think. He continued to wring his hands as he put one foot forward and the other began to follow soon after. _

_The wind began to howl, sending shivers down to his spine. The sad truth of it all was that he stood there, under the dying sun and on the lifeless surface of the Sith homeworld all alone._

No,_ he corrected, _not alone._ He turned to his right and saw the figure there, standing in her violet and black robes, with her violet and gold embroidered veil over her eyes and much of her head. _

_She nodded to him and slowly made her way towards him, walking with purpose, but with a gentle grace that belied the rush of emotions that swam all over her. _

"_Visas," he breathed, taking in the sight. _

_She allowed a small smile to form on her lips. "Hello, Dante," she replied, her voice still soft and warm._

"_What are you doing here?" He looked around, his memory of his last so-called visit flooding back to him. _Tulak._ His voice grew concerned and his mind filled with worry. _If he's around, he might see her and hurt her. Or worse._ Instinctively, his hand went to his belt, only to find the warm grip of his belt. There was no lightsaber. "It's dangerous here." There was no blaster. He was unarmed and worried for her sake._

_She took a few more steps toward him, one of her hands touching his chin._

_He felt her warm touch, taking in the moment with her._

"_There is no danger here."_

_He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean there's no danger? I was here a few moments ago and I saw an old and very powerful Sith. He could be here—somewhere." He looked around, seeing nothing but sand, rocks and red light for miles beyond miles. "I know he's here somewhere."_

_She smiled and her cupped hand guided his puzzled face towards her. "It's all right. There is no one here, save for us." She moved in closer, resting her head on his chest._

_Startled at first, he allowed himself a smile and brought his arms around her, keeping her safe in his arms. "But how can you be here?"_

"_The bond you created," she whispered. "When I was injured, you threw your own life force into me. You almost killed yourself without realizing it."_

_Dante took a step back, his hands resting on her shoulders and his eyes focused on where her empty sockets would have been, was it not for the veil hiding the cruel reality. "I would never let you die. I could never live with myself if you were gone, but I know we made it out. We had to. So why are we here, on this forsaken world?"_

_She exhaled. "I do not know. Only you truly know. It may yet be the next step in your journey."_

_He bit down on his lower lip. _Perhaps you're right, Visas, _he mused. _This may yet be the next step in my journey. But where does my journey lead? _He inhaled and pulled her close to him once more, closing his eyes and letting his feelings rush through him. "I just want to spend this moment with you," he whispered. _

_She held him closer, until a gasp escaped her breath._

_He pulled back and looked at her, his expression full of concern and worry. "Visas? What is it?" _

_She took a few steps back and glanced about. "There's something else here. Something is not right. It feels almost as if it does not belong here."_

_Dante looked around, a dark wave suddenly passing through his body. _

_The wind was beginning to pick up and the sand was slowly turning to dust. _

"_You're right, but what?"_

_They looked around, until Visas stopped, her gaze fixed on the clouds above the pair._

"_What is it?" Dante looked up, but could see nothing._

"_It's come to an end," she answered. She looked back to him and then she lowered her gaze to the ground. "This is not a vision, but a phantom vision of our bond. It will be ending soon. You're alive—so am I. When you wake, I will not be able to join you."_

_He took her hand in his, realizing that he wore no gloves and the clothes on his back were not even his. "Whatever this is, I will stay with you. I won't leave you here, Visas." _

_Somewhere, out beyond the horizon, a distant rumbling could be heard. _

_The wind slowly began to pick up its howl._

_She shook her head, "no, Dante, you don't understand. This isn't real! When you tried to heal me, you put your life force into me. We're bonded, but I cannot go back with you. I am…incomplete."_

_The ground began to rumble and loose rocks and bones began to rattle._

"_No, Visas. You're coming back with me. I won't let you stay here and get pulled into whatever it is that is coming."_

_She pulled herself close to him once more, holding him as tightly as she could. "Your life lies down another path. We will meet again soon, but not now and not here. You must go and save Rena—I will always be here. I will always keep a part of you." She looked up toward him and kissed him._

_He felt her lips touch his, as warmth spread all over his body. He never wanted to stop. As their lips parted, he looked at her, until he was pulled away from her. "Wait! Visas!" He could feel the distance growing between them as the ground shifted. _

_The ground cracked wide and split them further apart, leaving a wide chasm in its wake._

_She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dante, but you're walking down another path. I will always be with you. I'll always love you."_

_His eyes went wide. _

_The tombs were collapsing on her side of the ground. _

_A large piece of the tomb was falling towards Visas. "Visas! No!"_

_A white light pulled him far away._

"_We will meet again," her voice echoed, almost as if it were a whisper. The entire light faded to complete darkness._

* * *

He found himself resting on his knees and hands on the cold metallic floor around him. There were panels giving his medical readouts, but none of this mattered to him. He tried to breath, but he found himself gagging and retching on the ground, spilling out the contents of the kolto in his stomach.

Unable to spill out anymore contents, Dante lowered his head, his soaked body still dripping the healing fluids.

A warm hand touched his shoulder.

"Dante," Carth spoke softly. "Dante? Can you hear us?"

He nodded, "where's Visas? Is she alive?"

Carth and Bastila helped their companion up, while Jolee brought a towel and threw it over the Jedi Knight, whose open wounds had now sealed, leaving faint dark scars over his body.

"She's alive," Jolee began, "but she's still in treatment for some time. I don't know how long it will be."

Dante looked at the kolto tank beside where his was.

She was submerged, surviving on the fluids as medical consoles beeped, indicating her status.

"You saved her, kid," Jolee grunted. "She would have been gone if it wasn't for you."

Dante nodded. "How long?"

Shaking his head with surprising patience, the Jedi Master repeated, "I don't know. She might be in there for weeks, maybe months."

He continued his gaze on Visas, feeling her presence through the Force and trying to send her waves of reassurance through the bond he had inadvertently created. Had it been up to him, he would have given her all of his life force if it meant saving her.

After some time, his hand resting on the cool surface of her tank, he lowered his head. _I will come back to you after some time, Visas, I swear it_.

"Come," Bastila said softly, "we need to go. There's much that still needs to be completed."

Nodding, Dante was led out of the ward and taken out of the hospital. The Jedi were leading him to the Temple to find new clothes for him and to bring him up to date over the course of events in the time he had been unconscious.

* * *

In his quarters, Dante threw on his old Jedi robes, taking care to throw on his new gloves that ran over the sleeves. Though it fit perfectly, Dante couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in his robes. He had preferred his other clothing, though he would have to find a few replacements.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he looked at his eyes, wondering where and how everything had led up to this point. _Where does my path now lead?_ He tightened a buckle on one of his gloves, his eyes still focused on _those_ eyes. _I will not abandon my Apprentice, but where is the first place I look?_

A gravelly voice whispered throughout his mind, _Korriban_.

"Korriban?" He whispered. His eyes shifted away and he looked throughout his quarters, searching for the voice. Sitting on his bed he furrowed his brow. "Why Korriban?"

And then it hit him.

"Tulak."

The ancient spectre had said to him, _seek me out at Korriban. _

"The ruins of Dreshdae," he muttered. "I'll need to find the Valley of Dark Lords. The archives will show me." He rose with a renewed vigor, and made his way to the door, knowing that the key to finding Rena lay in the Jedi Archives, providing they were not destroyed during the battle. "I'll find you yet, Rena," he swore. _I won't lose you too._

He walked out of the door to his quarters within the Temple, only to be surprised by the remaining group of Jedi.

Frreral, Cyrin, Ash, Jolee, Bastila, Vandar and Atton stood before him, clad in their own robes.

Atton, however, still kept his black fingerless gloves on, as a symbol of who he was and where his path would lead.

The Knight merely bowed. "To what do I owe this unexpected surprise?"

Cyrin spoke up, "we will need to go to the Senate for a special meeting. The Jedi are requested to attend."

Dante nodded slowly, his mind reeling with impatience. "I understand, Master Jace, but is it really necessary for all of us to go?"

The bald Master cocked his head and replied, "the Republic has dissolved and now former Supreme Chancellor Dodonna is motioning the Senate to create a new Galactic Union, if not to restore the Republic. If this can be done, then certainly we will have a very important role to play. Already, the Mandalorians have left for the Unknown Regions, presumably to join Revan. These other Jedi from Revan's fleet are here, waiting to rebuild the Order as well as join Revan in his efforts to eliminate the Sith."

Dante nodded, "but surely, Master, must we all go? I still have a missing Apprentice and I must seek her out before it is too late."

"I understand, Master Ravenmoon," Cyrin continued, his mind racing through possibilities of Dante's sudden reticence. "But this is important. We will find out our fate first, before we make any further move."

"We will find Rena," Jolee interjected, his voice as soft as he could muster. "I assure you of that, Dante."

His eyes roamed across the group who stood before him, and knew he had lost, if only for the time being. Through clenched teeth, Dante replied, "very well, Masters."

They began to leave one by one, Bastila paused, pursing her lips and then making her way with the others.

Ash had chosen to say nothing, and Frreral lowered his head and kept silent.

Atton walked up to Dante, resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Dante. I know you want to find her quickly, but right now we're not in the best condition to mount a search and rescue."

He glared at the scoundrel-turned-Jedi. "She's my Apprentice. I'm responsible for her and I know what will happen if they succeed in turning her."

Atton narrowed his eyes. "You don't even have a lightsaber. How can you expect to rescue someone from impossible odds when you're defenceless? Just trust me, we'll get you organized and we'll go get her. I've got a stake in this too, you know."

The pair left the Temple, walking towards the Senate, conversing over their plight when it suddenly occurred to the Knight that Atton didn't even have much in the way of training.

"Who will train you now that Visas is recuperating?"

The scoundrel shrugged. "I'm not sure. I figure one of the Masters—maybe even Jolee if he wants to. All I know is that right now, I'm not in the best shape to square off against who she's fighting with. She's got the training—I don't."

Dante paused, causing the other man to follow suit. "What if I told you there's a way to train you now, rather than wait?"

"What do you mean?"

Dante licked his lips, taking the gamble. "I'm saying, what if _I_ trained you while we search for Rena?"

Atton shook his head, smirking. "Oh no, nice try. I may be a trainee, but I know that the Jedi don't allow more than one Apprentice per Master. The whole 'Dark Side' and falling thing just doesn't appeal to me."

"All I'm saying, Atton, is that if we leave to get to Rena, I can train you in the ways of the Force—build up where Theresa and Visas left off. It might take some time, but it will be more than enough to hone your mental defences and your physical prowess. Can you really say 'no' to that?"

Atton, hesitant to answer, looked askance. His eyes roamed the sky and the Senate building just a few steps away from them. "If I say 'yes' then I'll see Theresa faster?"

Dante nodded. "I can find Theresa for you, Atton."

"But those Jedi that came here--,"

"Can do it too," interjected another voice, causing both men to look at the source. He walked towards them, clad in his own loose robes and cloak. His eyes were stark blue, contrasting with his slightly golden skin and dark brown hair. "Only, we're faster," he continued, smiling at the pair. He stood taller than Dante, matching the same height as Atton.

"And who might you be?" Dante asked, his brow arched.

The Jedi bowed, "allow me to introduce myself then. I am Lance Windwalker, General of the Seventh Fleet."

"You're with Revan's group then, I take it?" Dante asked, annoyed that he had come at an inopportune moment.

"Yes, I am, Master…?"

"You may address me as Master Ravenmoon. This is Atton Rand."

Lance nodded to Atton. "So tell me, Master Ravenmoon, what exactly are you trying to coax Master Rand into?"

Atton smirked. "He thinks I'm a Master."

"You're not a Master?" Lance looked at Atton with more puzzlement, causing the scoundrel's smirk to widen into a grin.

"Let's just say he's not quite a Master and not quite a Knight," Dante replied, allowing himself a quick smile.

"I'm a rather special case," Atton continued, his grin growing all the more widely.

"I see," Lance said finally, clearly puzzled. Clearing his throat he continued, "well, if you'll excuse me, I have a very important meeting with the Masters."

Dante brought a hand up, causing the other Jedi to stop. "They're not in the Temple at the moment—they're actually in the Senate."

Scowling, the Jedi General nodded. "Thanks for the tip then, Master Ravenmoon." He turned about and trudged towards the Senate.

Furrowing his brow, Atton couldn't help but add, "wasn't he supposed to say 'May the Force be with you?'"

Dante shrugged. "It hardly matters anymore. Now, tell me—if I help you with the ways of the Force, will you accompany me?"

Atton scratched his chin, "I still don't know. I've got a bad feeling about all of this."

"What's the worst that can happen?"

* * *

Thousands of senators watched as Forn stood at the podium, ready to announce what future she carried for the fledgling systems. Today she was clad in elegant white robes, a symbol of peace. Both of her aides stood proudly beside her, watching as history would record this very moment as either a triumph or the complete failure of the Galaxy. "It's been a long month," she began. "We have faced insurmountable odds at every turn and we have beaten them time and again. The Republic may have finally collapsed, and with it, perhaps all of the corruption and stagnation, but now our resolve is stronger. The Sith have openly attacked us, revealing that they are still here, threatening to destroy our very way of life."

Voices could be heard throughout the Senate, as floating droid holocams recorded every instant of this speech, sending it across light-years towards other systems all over the Holonet.

Keeping her composure, she continued speaking, ignoring the sweat that was building up at the small of her back. "Thanks to the Jedi and their efforts, we would not be standing here today. The Sith had plotted to destroy us from the inside, buying the efforts of a few Senators that threatened to break the Republic and delivering the ultimatum that there would be no more freedom—no more justice. These Jedi—led by Master Cyrin Jace—have proven that the Galaxy must become a peaceful and safe haven for not just the Core, but for all living beings."

She paused, her eyes looking over every single Senate disc and its occupants with earnest hope. She breathed in deeply. "The Galaxy needs us to help rebuild things the way it was—free of corruption and free of war. We must do this not just for our sakes, but for the sake of future generations."

She extended her hand and gestured across the room. "Here we all gather, from all corners of the Galaxy, together in unison, vying for a long lasting peace. I ask that we give peace a chance—let's rebuild broken worlds, heal shattered lives. We must rise up above the ashes and begin anew, give life back to the Galaxy. But there are those who would threaten it. In order to keep our peace—for now and for future generations, I ask that we form a new Galactic League of Systems, designed to prevent future wars from spreading. I plead that the Senate votes for a new Union—one where we can all be proud to serve our part and know that our way of life will not end. Our enemies are numerous; shall we not unite and rise above them?"

Cheers rang forth, as senators motioned for the passing of a new Galactic Union.

"The people of Corulag second the motion for the Galactic League of Systems," cried one of the senators.

"The people of Malastare concur with the honourable delegates of Corulag. Let there be a League of Systems!"

More senators rose from their seats, applauding Forn Dodonna and her candor.

In the matter of seconds, the entire Senate had rallied and ratified the legislation of a new government—one that would deliberate quicker and seek to rid the Galaxy of corruption and the Sith. In the matter of a month, the Republic had crumbled and the Galactic League of Systems had risen to take its place.

Forn Dodonna smiled widely, her face overcome with relief and joy as she was once more elected to lead the League of Systems in their first years.

The Senate had approved her appeal to end the Sith once and for all.

She couldn't help but smile.

Things had finally started to look up.

Her eyes moved to a booth at the far corner of the Senate chambers, and her smile grew.

"So it is done," Cyrin spoke, his voice barely a whisper. The Jedi had witnessed the course of events from a private booth, taking care to keep themselves concealed.

Vandar nodded, his ears twitched slightly. "Unknown the fate of this League will be," he replied.

"What will it mean for the rest of us?" Dante asked, leaning against a wall near to the exit of their booth.

Jolee shrugged. "Whatever it means, there's no denying that we're going to be growing again—and that will make the Sith want to hunt us all the more."

Ash glanced at Jolee. "You've become very cynical in your old age."

The bald man grinned. "It's called wisdom for a reason."

"Hopefully, this will make the fate of the Order much clearer," Cyrin said. "Perhaps it will mean that any surviving Jedi will return to the Temple and we can begin anew."

"We have many young students, after all," Ash continued. "Our numbers may have dwindled, but we will grow.

"And there is still the matter of Revan," Frreral reminded them. "Wherever he may be, it is certain that these Jedi will need our help."

"I believe we should discuss the rest of this back at the Temple," Ash interjected. "For now, our fate has been sealed. The Jedi Order lives for another day. Whether or not this…League of Systems will thrive, remains to be seen."

* * *

It was now late afternoon on Coruscant, the evening had begun to bud, and the sky bathed in fiery colours as its sun had begun to set.

People continued their busy lives, ignorant of the changes in the Galactic government and far more focused on surviving another day until the end of their own.

In his quarters, standing in front of the transparisteel pane, Dante couldn't help but watch the world continue its life without so much as turning an eye to the devastation wrought within the last month.

It had all become nothing more than history.

_Is this what the Force wants? Does it want life to continue, ignorant of the dangers that continue to threaten it? How can these people bat a blind eye to everything that has occurred in the last month?_

He clenched his teeth, balling his fist.

A small welt of rage was beginning to surface. His rage was not misguided, but in fact, pointed towards the very things that continued its apathy to all of the pain and suffering that had occurred in the space of almost twenty years.

The Galaxy continued to revolve, while lives had been lost and more were being destroyed in the pits of worlds such as, Nar Shaddaa or Citadel Station on Telos.

There would be countless lives that had suffered, some of them being the soldiers of the Republic and the Sith Empire. There were even those who had been there since the Mandalorian Wars, but as always, there were more innocents whose lives had become nothing more than a wisp of a dream.

And then there's still the matter of Rena, Revan and most of all, Lotus.

Her presence had unnerved him—she'd been stronger when he had met her this time, but he had managed to beat her back. He skirted dangerously near the Dark Side when he had encountered her. Now he wasn't so sure.

Whatever had happened to her back on the planet those years back, one thing was certain: Lotus Xa had found a way to leech from the fountain of the Force there. It was the only way her power could have grown when they had fought.

_Her powers may have grown_, he mused, resting a gloved hand on the window, _but I _will_ be ready when I face her again. The next time I see her, she will die._


	46. Revenant

_Revenant _

Lotus watched out at the swirl of hyperspace, watching as it continued its revolution around the shuttle. _So many years ago, and I would have killed you or turned you,_ she mused, her finger outlining a rough drawn image of a person on the transparisteel window.

She outlined the line of his jaw, his lips, and his eyes.

She remembered the way his long raven hair ran parallel to the line of his jaw.

She always remembered his eyes, its intense piercing gaze. Lotus had always wondered what lurked behind those eyes, but of course, she'd always known.

Dante's pain was his vulnerability. To look past those eyes, she'd have to cut his life down before making him hers forever.

But killing him was not the answer. It had never been the answer.

What he had, she wanted desperately.

He had life and perseverance. He could offer her a gift beyond everything she had desired.

He could give her an heir that would succeed her ascension.

_Is it possible he could ever give me more than that? He could pull me back from the darkness if he so wished._

The shuttle lurched, signifying its decant from hyperspace.

It only meant one thing: they had arrived at the rendezvous point.

Taking a step back, Lotus made her way to the cockpit, without so much as sparing a glance at Deus and Rena.

Making her way into the flashing panel interior, she glanced at the pilot, who didn't return the gesture, sparking some mild impression from her.

"Are we at the coordinates?"

He nodded. "The _Revenant_ is waiting for us in orbit over the moon, Ma'am."

The wedge shaped warship hung in orbit over the jungle moon of Yavin, the site of Exar Kun's death. The ship appeared very similar to the Sith Interdictors commonly used during the Jedi Civil War, though it didn't carry a lower mandible and the ship was designed with a slight curl on all three vertices.

It hauntingly shone its silver hull, bathed in rich golden light as it continued to lie in wait for the shuttle that was to dock.

She smiled. "Good. Hail them and let them know we're on our way."

He shook his head, his mirthless voice not wavering a bit. "That won't be necessary."

She couldn't help but raise a brow. "And why not?"

"They've sent a vanguard of fighters to escort us in. They've also given us an approach vector. By the time we get to within range, they'll tractor us in and do the rest of the work for us." He finally glanced at her, grinning sardonically.

"Charming," she muttered, rolling her eyes and turning back to face her catch. It still bothered her that she had left her own personal prize back on Coruscant, but she knew only time would tell when Dante would truly be hers.

"You shouldn't tease a Sith, especially one as ill-tempered as her, Captain," muttered the co-pilot when he was sure she had left.

Shrugging the superior replied, "every Sith's ill-tempered. At some point you just begin to ignore it—but don't get careless. Believe me; I heard Hector was fried by _the_ Lord, himself."

The co-pilot let out a low whistle. "Glad that's not me."

The pilot glanced at his partner. "Trust me, the way we're going, I figure we'll end up dead anyway." He went back to his command console. "Who cares anyway? It's not like we're going to live forever."

* * *

He caressed his sister's bruises with gentle ease, his fingers slightly brushing against her soft raven hair.

She managed a moan, causing him to frown behind much of his prosthetics.

"It is all right," he whispered, earning a stifled gasp when her eyes opened for his efforts. The synthetic voice that came from his mask had not changed at all when he had spoken softly. It only rose when his voice rose, and oddly enough, he felt a pang in his heart for not being able to shush her soothingly.

She pulled away from his grasp, her eyes wide with horror for a brief moment, until it took her a few moments to register that _he_ had been a comforting presence around her when she was dazed unconscious.

"I'm…sorry," he finally mustered, his face shifting away from her and towards the panels on the floor. "I was only trying to help you."

He let go of his grip on her shoulders and rose, uncharacteristically lending a hand to help her rise.

Unsure at first, she glanced around to see a pair of troopers gawking at the pair.

Reluctantly, she took it and rose, offering her brother a smile, in the slightest.

Before he could return the gesture, the sound of footsteps filled the main hold, catching the pair of soldiers off guard, as well as the pair of clones.

Deus turned to face who it was, his eyes narrowing within his prosthetics.

"How nice," she began, her voice filled with mocking maternal affection, "the children are bonding with one another."

Rena glared icily at the assassin. "What do you want, schutta?"

The assassin narrowed her eyes. "How delightful, the little brat thinks she can defend herself."

Deus couldn't help but snicker as he witnessed Rena gesture vulgarly towards the older woman.

Lotus offered a mirthless smile for Rena's efforts. Returning her gaze to the larger man, she said, "step aside clone. Give her to me."

He frowned within his mask. He felt no compulsion towards the older woman whatsoever. She tortured Rena far more than he should have allowed. Something within him was stirring and he surprised even himself with his answer. "No."

She appeared taken aback, if only before a moment, when her narrowed eyes became even narrower slits. "What did you say to _me_, Clone?" It took her every fiber in her being not to stare back at the pair of soldiers who started to burst with laughter of seeing her authority challenged.

Deus didn't back down.

He was apathetic to her. She had harmed Rena and he knew that as he cradled her battered form in his arms, he would never again allow any harm to come to her. It didn't feel right when she was in pain. "I said: _no_."

Watching this take place, Rena couldn't help but feel something akin to pride for her darker brother. She could feel something different about him, but she couldn't place what it was. Her eyes roamed towards Lotus, who continued to grow irate by the second.

Growling, Lotus took a step closer to him. "You would _dare_ challenge _me_? Who are you, but a mere tool, to think that you have a choice? I gave you an order—if you so much as choose not to, I will cut you down right where you are."

He took a step forward. "I'm far more powerful than you. I dare you to strike me down. You'd be crushed like the little bug that you are before you'd even withdraw your blade."

And that was when she had felt it.

Lotus could feel the intensity of Deus' power, weighing her down, almost as if her own potency in the Force was but a mere puddle compared to the vast lake that was his own.

Rena felt the strength of her brother, weighing her down gently, a pressure gradually building in the small of her back.

She couldn't help but let out a small gasp, watching her brother's power overshadow the assassin who had outsmarted her before.

Lotus had begun to feel beads of sweat growing on her forehead. Her heart had begun to throb an extra beat, rising slowly with each passing moment. She could feel a heavy, almost unbearable weight fall across her shoulders, while her eyes had begun to grow heavier.

She fought it, with all the strength she could muster.

She knew that by threatening his sister, Lotus had made an enemy for life.

Deus continued to stare at her until he finally exhaled sharply, his vocoder emitting a heavy hiss that followed him. Turning around, he gently took his sister's hand and begun to march off towards another section of the shuttle.

She felt the weight give way, vanishing before her, causing her to stumble and then fall, triggering the raucous laughter of the pair of soldiers who sat down, witnessing the altercation.

Rising, her anger grew tenfold. Knowing she was no match for the clones, she attempted to regain her composure and turned to face the pair of soldiers who had continued to laugh, despite their very best efforts.

"Is there something funny about all of this?" She whispered her voice low and filled with venomous rage.

One of the soldiers shook his head, "we're sorry, Mistress, but it was funny!"

Her ire continued to grow. Clenching her fists, she probed on, "and what exactly was it that made you want to laugh?"

The other continued to laugh, while the first answered again. "That despite your icy exterior and the fact that no one likes you, you had your butt handed to you by someone completely new!"

The second companion fell to the ground, his hands over his ribs as he continued laughing.

Irked, she couldn't help but raise a brow. "So, you find that funny?"

The first nodded, his laughter dying down, his companion joining him.

She gritted her teeth and said, "fine." Extending her hands, she took delight in hearing the laughter of the soldiers turn into agonizing screams as blue tendrils of electricity swarmed over them, forcing the men to fall to the ground, writhing in pain.

She continued to pour all of her hatred and anger—all of the pain she was forced to endure and the humiliation offered to her by the clone brats—into the suffering and misery of the pair of unfortunate soldiers.

Their screams continued to resonate throughout the shuttle, until they had finally died down at last.

It had been followed by a sinister cackling from the assassin, who left to smoldering corpses where they were. Dusting off her hands, Lotus calmly and quietly made her way out of the main hold of the ship that was now docking within the mighty Sith warship.

* * *

They had walked down into the clean, austere hangar, filled with immense pride for the fleet they were serving.

Lotus had walked out first, followed by a group of Sith soldiers surrounding the pair of clones.

Deus kept both his and Rena's lightsabers fastened on his belt, his arms crossed over his wide chest, while he surveyed the area around him.

Legions of soldiers stood ready and at attention for those who would be arriving shortly any moment.

Rena stood beside Deus, her hands bound by stun cuffs.

There fresh taste of scrubbed air filled her nostrils as she took in the scene before her.

Soldiers, droids, field commanders and other officers stood ready and waiting.

Lotus couldn't help but smile, knowing she had accomplished the task set out for her, despite the setback of not having her own personal achievement with her.

On the far sides of the bays were shuttles and crates that filled up the spaces. Right before the Lotus' group was a triage of turbolifts and a door that led outside of the room.

Above the turbolifts stood the hangar bay control center, where groups of officers sat huddled away, monitoring the incoming and outgoing vessels.

"How quaint," Rena muttered, glancing around the clean and brightly-lit room.

Almost as if in response, the doorway had opened, hissing and parting as a group of nine figures approached them.

Of the nine, five were clad in distinguishing crimson armour with long Force Pike staves in their grips. They were none other than the escort guard for the four figures within their protective fold.

Three of the figures within the group were clad in thick, voluminous black cloaks that covered most, if not all, of their features.

The lead figure in the trio appeared to have a very protruding nose, his skin as pale as bleached bone, similar to the other two.

The figure to his right carried a scar that seemed to originate from his forehead to his lips and beyond.

Rena couldn't be sure, but she could feel an immense anger emanating from him at the appearance of her and her brother.

The third was obviously a female, her lithe figure hidden behind the bulky cloak.

Surprisingly, Rena found nothing that was distinguishable from the other two. She could feel a tolerance exuded from the other pair, noting that perhaps they looked down upon females. By their power alone, she already knew that these were none other than Lotus' Sith Masters.

The final figure appeared to be clad in another uniform entirely.

It was the ship's commander.

He was clad in the white trousers and black blazer that fit his stocky form, carrying with it Admiral's pips. In the crook of his right arm was his cap, while the belt that ran over his black blazer and waist carried a holster for his officer's blaster pistol.

Rena narrowed her eyes, taking in the sight of the Admiral and noting that, despite his clean cut appearance, this was a man she knew was truly horrid.

His graying hair was slick back and trimmed short, leaving his ears to jut more from his rather square-shaped head. He had black bushy brows that had begun to pepper with signs of age. His tanned skin did nothing to hide the weathered skin that had begun to show signs of wrinkles.

Even his rather stocky build did nothing to hide the jowls that were beginning to add another chin to his wide face.

Rena had to stifle a giggle at the commander and instead shifted her gaze to find avenues of escape, before the lead Sith Master began to speak, catching her attention fully.

Lotus knelt before them; she could feel their power adding to her own within the hangar. She felt thrilled, exalted and what's more, she felt _alive_.

"Rise," the lead Master commanded, "you have done well, Lotus."

She rose, nodding, "thank you, Masters."

The second added, "you have brought the aberrations to us?"

She smiled and took a step aside and gestured with her hand to the pair behind her. "May I present to you, the strongest of the clones: Deus and Rena Naver."

The second chuckled, "odd, they seem to have names." He glanced at Lotus, "how could they have names for being mere clones?"

"Because we're people too," Rena chimed in, her eyes narrowed to thin slits.

He returned her glare, his scarred upper lip curling in distaste. "You would do well to know your place, _clone_. I know of your 'father' all too well." He cleared the distance between him and Rena, his acrid breath hot on her face.

Before she could respond, the third Master, the female spoke up, "quiet, Sardonicus. You will make many enemies before the night is out, I promise you that. For now, let us see what other news Lotus has brought us."

Sardonicus bit his lip and let out a low snarl before turning away and rejoining the others.

The assassin dipped her head in acknowledgement and continued, "Traya and the others have been _dissolved_. I saw to it personally and I could feel the presence of…_our_ Exile working behind the scenes as well."

The lead Master growled. "He is still alive?"

She nodded, "it would seem so, my Lord."

He glanced at the female Master, "Hereticus go with Admiral Greth to the bridge and lay in coordinates for rejoining the fleet. The rest of the Council would do well to hear this." His thin lips parted in a mirthless smile, his voice barely a whisper. "It seems my son is still seeking to overthrow my Empire."

She nodded and left with the stocky Admiral, though the five guards stood still.

The lead Master moved to face Deus, who kept his stoic stance and remained calm, which had slowly grown on Rena.

Her eyes moved to her brother, who now seemed almost as if he were the eye of a hurricane.

He was completely calm and relaxed, yet ready to take action without so much as batting an eyelash.

She shuddered to think what that added to his natural lethality. Her own relative—a clone from the mighty Revan himself—had far more power than any known Jedi in the Galaxy, and what's more, he controlled it on a level that far surpassed her own.

"You must be Deus," he replied, staring at the prosthetic-faced man.

He nodded.

"Do you know who you descend from?"

"Revan," he replied, his synthetic voice filled with an edge of something Rena couldn't quite put her finger on.

It sounded to her almost as if he were filled with pride or some other feeling the invoked some sense of feeling for their 'father.'

"Your command over the Force is something to be commended, despite the fact you've been trained by weak amateurs." He smiled at the clone, his voice filled with a false sense of warmth. "You will be a great weapon over him—you will deliver this Galaxy to us and you shall ascend to the path that is truly yours and not his."

Deus merely dipped his head in acknowledgement, similar to the way in which Lotus had.

After a moment, the Master glanced at Rena and then at Lotus. "Take them to their quarters," he ordered. "We have much planned for them. They will find that their talents will be used completely."

Lotus bowed, "yes, Lord Julius."

Julius turned and began to leave, with his guards in tow, as well as the agitated Sardonicus. _They will lead the armies that can match the wits and talents of their predecessor,_ he mused, walking through the hallways with his escorts. _They will bring Revan to me, and once they do, I shall crush them all. No one shall oppose me ever again._ He smiled, knowing that what would happen would soon be upon him.

He had foreseen it.

* * *

"_No! Don't leave me!" She screamed as two crimson bolts tore through her other shoulder and stomach, sending her flying down into the black void that was the center of the spiraled pathway. The echoes of her scream were sent upwards as Lotus continued to fly through the hole, never to be heard from again._

_She fell down what seemed an eternity, her weak form crashing along the rocky surface of the walls, until her wounded hand found purchase on a rock dislocating her shoulder in the process._

_She cried out, letting go from the sudden shock and impact and continued her fall, landing on her stomach a moment after._

_Without realizing it, Lotus had managed to prevent falling to her death._

_Gasping for air, she glanced up and using her weak legs, she began to crawl towards the tomb that lay before her. _

_Its golden doors were locked, but the dust that had settled around it had done nothing to diminish its sheen. _

_Groaning with each and every painstaking movement, Lotus continued to crawl towards the door, her thoughts bent on _why_ Dante would do something like this to her when she had come close to liberating him._

_Groaning, she heard a distant rumble, followed by another one. _

_Laying a few feet before the door and feeling far too weak to move any closer, she rolled over on her back, her eyes growing heavy, as well as the growing dead weight of her limbs. _

_Her blood had begun pouring profusely; the only thing that had prevented any killing blow from the blast had been her armour, which was now a smoldering wreck._

_Bathing the dank dirt, she rolled on her back, her eyes roaming over towards the light at the end of the tunnel, followed shortly by a large rumble and bang that it caused her to jerk upright._

_Her eyes went wide as she watched her only avenue of escape shut before her in a wave of rocks and debris that covered over it, followed by a few that had fallen down towards where she had been but a few moments prior, sending dust and dirt flying over her weak body._

_Too weak to care anymore, she closed her eyes; her last thought focused on the one she had come so close to taking as her own. _

Dante.

_She had awoken moments after, not knowing where she was and how long it had been. _

_The first thing that she felt was the pain._

_Her stomach and her shoulders were throbbing, the pain reaching far into her, almost as if it were tearing apart her very soul. _

_Crying out, her voice echoing all over the tunnel, she mustered whatever strength she had left to her and pressed it deeply to her wounds._

_Closing her eyes, Lotus focused on willing herself to live, willing herself to touch the Force that was pooled here and heal her wounds. _

_But as her eyes closed, only one image—one person sprang forth in her mind._

Dante.

"_I won't let myself die—I will have you yet," she vowed through gritted teeth._

"_I will have you yet."_

_Almost as if answering her call, she could feel the will to live growing stronger and her heavy limbs growing lighter. _

_The pool of the Force within the very chambers in which she now lay was swarming towards her. She could feel its cool touch, almost as if it were the icy hand of Death coming to claim her. _

_But Lotus felt only the strong will to live. Her mind had now fully become bent on surviving and she felt her hands begin to tingle with the power of regenerating her body. Closing her eyes, she collapsed into complete darkness, waking but a few moments later to feel rejuvenated. Her body had become one with the Force, touching it, bending its own streams to fountain into her very being and using it to purify the gaping wounds within her body._

_Surprisingly, her body began to feel stronger with the influence of the Force within and without her. _

_She smiled, watching white wisps touch her body, leaving her body a moment later, heavy with darkness and making her feel far lighter than she had known for so long. _

_Without realizing it, she brought one hand up, feeling its weight once more take over._

_Then she collapsed into nothingness once more._

_She'd awoken completely now, her mind focused and the pain ebbing away from her body. With mild surprise, she touched her wounds—or where they would have been had it not been for the flesh that had sealed over them. Even her lightsaber wound had begun to close slowly, causing her to smile in surprise. _

_Already she could feel the power of the Force over her, bathing her, rejuvenating her spirit. _

_Still mildly weak, she rose, supported by the naturalization of the rocks. Sauntering over towards the doorway, she spotted a glimmer out of the corner of her eyes. Moving towards it, she made her way to where the glimmer was growing and even now, she could easily make out what it was._

_Dust had settled over it, but nothing could deter the sheen of the lightsaber that had once belonged to Dante's deceased brother—Darth Seth._

_She ignored his slumped corpse, making way to grab his lightsaber and to take his utility belt. Undaunted and unperturbed by her former Master's corpse, she removed her wrecked armour, leaving only her loose tunic underneath. _

_Unhooking his cape, she whirled the black cloth over her shoulders, clipping the metallic chain to the left hook of the cape. Donning the utility belt, she hefted her newly acquired blade and gave one last glance at the corpse._

"_He will be mine now—you're nothing but a smoldering memory." Her eyes roamed over the blade, admiring its lightweight balance. Thumbing the activation plate, she took some delight in watching the scarlet shaft of energy thrum to life, painting the dark, dank caverns with a pale red glow. _

"_It still works," she droned, her eyes alit with a fiery gleam. "Good." With a casual turn, the blade swung and the scent of burnt flesh filled her nostrils. _

_Seth's head fell to the ground, rolling for a moment until it stopped._

_Lotus Xa couldn't help but laugh._

_In the next instant, she plunged the blade into the golden doorway, melting away whatever ancient lock it once held. _

_After imbedding the blade in hilt-deep, she finally removed it, her thumb tapping the plate off, leaving the energy to retreat back into its emitter. _

_With the casual gesture of her other hand, she merely commanded, "open."_

_The doors opened away from her, creaking on its old hinges and revealing to her a lost underground cavern filled with the bones of those who had once been lost to the tombs until that very moment._

_Swallowing the lump that had begun to build up in her throat, Lotus made her way through the decayed underground city, filled with bone-picked corpses and vermin that occasionally got in her path. Her eyes focused on the broken roads, lights and other fixtures and makeshift homes that were still in her path. _

_She could hear the faint sound of water trickling, but what's more, she felt the cool rush of a breeze._

_There lay an exit somewhere within the tomb. _

_She could feel the touch of the Force and knew that it emanated from something strong within this place. _

_Whatever it was, it had obviously chosen not to present itself yet. _

_What bothered Lotus the most however, was that it appeared amused enough to grant her the very wish to survive._

_Whatever exuded that particular strength in the Force was obviously sentient, and that bothered Lotus immensely. _

_Almost guided by its whims, Lotus continued to tread warily through the dead city, her eyes roaming for any danger, yet her mind growing uneasy at the touch and the slippery guidance of the mysterious presence._

_She continued to tread along a narrow dirt path that had sprung up, her ears picking up the rising sounds of trickling water._

_Continuing along the dirt path for what seemed days, a weak and tired Lotus finally found her small stream of water. _

_Her strength fading fast, the assassin collapsed near the stream, her eyes growing heavy with weariness, unaware of the growing presence of the sentient being._

_Losing consciousness quickly, knowing she could only live for so long without food or water, Lotus lay on her back, her blade in her hand. "Come and face me, creature," she spat, "I will not go without a fight."_

_The mysterious dark presence didn't reveal itself._

_Her eyes focused on a distinct shadow a few feet from her, shortly before her sight blurred once more to reveal nothing around her._

_It had been the seventh time in a row when the mysterious Force presence chose not to reveal itself, despite the many times it had the option to._

_The dance continued for what seemed endless days, until she finally managed to crawl through the pathways, living solely on water and the few vermin she caught._

_Resting, her mind close to breaking from the cat and mouse game from the Force presence over the past few weeks, Lotus could feel it making its way through the back of her mind._

_Feeling it tread ever closer to her, the assassin knew it would only be now when she would gain the upper hand on it. _

_There was a shuffling amongst the dirt, its movements growing louder. _

_She could hear what sounded like snorting and obvious sniffing._

_It began to near her._

_Her eyes opened wide and she sprang into action, her lightsaber flaring to life and biting deep into the four-legged Dark Side creature known only as the Hssiss. _

_Appearing before her very eyes, Lotus saw where her blade bit into the creature, just above one of its legs. _

_Almost on instinct, the creature swung its hard carapace-like tail, forcing the assassin to leave over and on top of it. _

_Dragging the lightsaber along its back, Lotus raced along its back until she leapt over its thrashing tail and feral howls._

_Spinning around and leveling her blade before her, Lotus witnessed the creature turn towards her, bellowing with a low growl in its throat. _

_Clenching her jaw, she leapt head-on towards it, knowing that only one of them would walk out alive._

_The creature opened its wide maw, revealing rows upon rows of gleaming sharp teeth and hot, acrid breath. Snapping towards her, the creature let out a loud growl._

_The assassin cried out, landing on the ground a few feet behind the creature._

_Turning around, she witnessed the creature writhe in pain as its snout lay a few feet from it._

_She sighed and turned around, a white light at the furthest end of the stream._

_Raising her hands before her eyes, the assassin squinted to make it out. _

_She had found her exit. _

_For the next few days she traveled perilously towards the end of the stream, her mind focused on leaving this place once and for all. _

_On the last day of her trip, she finally collapsed, her strength taking her. _

_Using whatever strength she had, she crawled out towards the end, her mind focused on one thing: getting out alive. _

_She forced her thoughts on escaping. _

_She had escaped terrible things before and she knew she would _never_ give up, as long as she had breath in her body._

_She had escaped the slave trade on some nameless world, killing her slaver in the process._

_She had escaped her Jedi Master who saw fit to torture her in ways that made the slaver a saint. She killed him in his sleep and left to join Revan and Malak in their quest against the Mandalorians._

_She escaped the battlefields of Dxun, Onderon, Taris and much more. _

_She would escape many more things as long as she had breath in her body. _

_Her mind focused on the things she would take once she secured her freedom. _

_She would have power._

_She would have unquestionable loyalty._

_She would have her prize._

_Her mind was still bent on Dante. He had left her marks—he had matched her devastation and thensome._

_He had an unimaginable strength in the Force and she would need it if she were to take her power._

_She would need him to help her create ascension, but first, she'd need to escape._

_Dragging her weak body across the floor, she managed to make it out through the crook that had shone with light._

_Ignoring the cool sensation of water on her body, she dragged herself out of the caverns, the sunlight bathing her body and causing her to squint her eyes until she grew used to the light._

_She could feel the strong presence of the Dark Side wash over her, almost as if the icy touch assured her that as long as she continued to life, she would see her ascension._

_Before she knew it, she began to lose consciousness. _

_The sounds of footsteps could be heard all around her, surrounding her weak and tired form._

"_Sir," one of the figures said through an obvious mask, "we've found someone!"_

_A trio of footsteps approached her, one of them clad in silver and black armour, while the other two were clad in heavy black cloaks._

"_My Lord," the armoured figure began, "we found her a short while ago. What are you orders?"_

_The older figure in the cloak knelt, touching her face. "Tell me young one, do you wish to live?" _

_She could only moan._

"_Master," the second cloaked figure began, "leave her, she is not worth our time."_

_The Master looked back at his foolish apprentice. "Sardonicus, you fool, have you learned nothing since Revan? There is always something that is worth our time." A grin could be felt underneath his palpable and dry voice. "Besides, she survived the trials that even _you_ could not achieve."_

_Sardonicus brought a hand to his lips. "Do you not forget what Revan did to me, Master?"_

_The older man smiled. "As I recall, Revan spared you a fate far worse—despite what you did to his companion, Malak."_

_Sardonicus scowled beneath the shadows. "He challenged my right to power—"_

"_And he nearly had it, were it not for you and your thugs, whom I recall Revan dispatching with relative ease."_

"_Bah," the younger man said, turning and leaving._

"_Sardonicus," his Master called out, "take the girl. She shall prove…useful, in our future endeavours."_

_The apprentice scowled but glanced at two of the soldiers and gestured to the collapsed assassin._

_Taking her slumped figure, Lotus could only mutter one name—someone whom she would take as hers or destroy. "Dante…"_

* * *

Julius smiled, watching the blue swirl of hyperspace in his own quarters.

The guards, Sardonicus and the others were busy adjusting to the new arrivals.

_She came through,_ he mused, his eyes glancing at the small datapad that lay on the dark, drab desk.

_Yet she seems almost as if her mind is still on that…Jedi._ His lips curled up into a snarl of disgust. _I wonder, is she still useful or has she ran out of her uses?_ His gaze moved back to the blue swirl, dismissing the thought with a mere wave of his hand, turning his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

_Revan._

"He'll come to his end soon enough," he muttered. "The children will be perfect, as well as the others." His mind shifted towards Deus, the one creature that was far more powerful than the revered warrior that was bringing down his empire.

_My Empire…_

He snarled, his mind still focused on tormenting him and forcing him to move his plans forward in a way he never hoped.

_The weapons shall move forward, as always. No one will stop me—not the Jedi, not the Council…not even Revan._

_The Galaxy shall remember the might of the Sith as it lay in burning embers._

Almost as if to wake him from his musings, his small holoprojector beeped and flashed. He removed it from the folds of his robe, activating the switch and knowing that the time to tip the balance of the Force had come.


	47. Catharsis

_Catharsis _

Dante entered the Council chambers, his eyes meeting the stoic gazes of the others.

The glare of Coruscant's sun bathed the room in a shade of fiery orange, bordering on a tone of red that rivaled even the intricate designs on the flooring in the chamber.

Every Jedi, including Bastila and her apprentice, sat in their seats, watching the Jedi Knight enter the chamber.

The Masters formed a perimeter around the Jedi, who now entered the center of the chamber and bowed.

"Greetings, Masters," Dante began.

Cyrin dipped his head in acknowledgement, his hand gesturing towards a seat beside the Wookiee Jedi Master. "Take a seat, Master Ravenmoon."

Nodding, Dante moved to the far left of the chamber, taking his seat beside Frreral.

"Now," Cyrin began, "we have a great many matters to attend to. Chancellor Dodonna has informed several of us that they will be requesting our aid in the coming days ahead, to which the Masters have agreed on unanimously."

"Agreed?" Dante interrupted, frowning. "What exactly do they mean by 'aid,' Master Jace?"

"This League of Systems will require that we take up a diplomatic presence to convince other systems to join."

"In other words," Frreral interjected, "we're helping to rally other systems to Chancellor Dodonna's cause. In exchange, the League will be helping us look for other Force Sensitives so as to rebuild this battered Order."

"And what of the Sith?" The Jedi Knight pressed. "Surely we can't sit idly by and wait for another war to greet us on our doorstep."

Ash shook his head. "That is another matter that comes in hand with another problem: Revan's Jedi."

Before anyone else could reply, the doors parted, revealing a Padawan leading a trio of Jedi.

"Speak of the Devil," Jolee muttered under his breath, watching the hooded Jedi enter the chamber.

Bowing out of respect for the Masters, the Padawan left, leaving the three Jedi in the inner circle of the chamber.

Bastila let out a gasp, feeling something emanate from the trio—most notably the lead Jedi. She could feel his eyes—or his presence—attempt to probe her mind. Regaining her composure, she closed her mind from the Force pushing the subtle touch away.

The memory of her battle with Atris sat too readily in her mind.

"Masters," the lead figure spoke in a rasp. "We were sent here at Revan's behest, hoping that we could lend whatever aid to you and hope that you will aid us in our goal for the elimination of the Sith."

Cyrin brought a hand up to stop him. "The Council will decide whether or not we shall help you." He sat up, leaning with keen interest. "For now, tell us why you have come."

Removing his hood, Lance took a step towards the Master. "As I said, Master, we have come at the behest of Revan."

Dante studied them carefully, feeling their presences more than he had when they were at the other side of the door. _Curious_, he thought, his eyes shifting to Lance. _This one is most strong—and different from the others._ His eyes shifted to Bastila, who kept her gaze focused on Lance.

Dante had _felt_ Lance attempt to probe her mind, almost as if he were searching for something from her. He didn't know how or why he could feel the other Jedi attempt to touch Bastila's mind, but the Knight knew he had felt it.

Ignoring the attention of the Council, Lance produced a small circular shaped disk from within his cloak. With the casual flick from his thumb, a small human shaped image came to life.

His long hair was slick back for the moment, his goatee neatly trimmed. He wore some form of fibermesh armour that appeared alien to much of the Jedi in the chamber. The blue image made it harder to determine the colour of the armour, but it would have been easy to surmise that it was black.

His identity was confirmed when Bastila and Jolee glanced at one another in surprise.

Dante could feel a rush of emotions emanating from the naturally cool surface of Bastila.

It could only be one person: Revan.

"_Greetings, Masters,_" Revan greeted, bowing deeply and returning his gaze back to where he assumed the addressees were, "_it has been some time since I've left known space—and the Order. I regret to inform you that I bear bad news._" He sighed rubbing his chin. "_I know that I had made a mistake in ignoring the wisdom of the Council and taking the Order to wage a war against the Mandalorians. What Malak and I uncovered from the ruminations of the Star Forge was something that you had been looking for—the ever elusive presence. It seems that we had encountered the complete presence of the Dark Side: the Sith._"

Cyrin glanced at Vandar, who returned the same disconcerting expression.

The elusive presence had been the cause of Revan's fall and the eventual collapse of a Galactic Republic that had stood for twenty-five thousand years.

Taking a moment, Revan brought a hand to his face, wiping his chin before speaking again. "_I left known space to fight off the Sith threat—to set right what I had made wrong. The Galaxy needs us now more than ever._" Lowering his head in shame—or in humility—Revan continued, "_and what I ask is that you forgive me and aid myself and the Lost Jedi in this war so we can truly bring balance to the Force._

"_I trust that General Windwalker will provide you with the coordinates and that Admiral Onasi will prepare the fleet. I will understand if the Order chooses not to take action, but I implore the Council that we do not hesitate for I surely believe that this is our last chance to rid the Galaxy of the Sith threat._"

With that, the pint-sized figure of the revered warrior known as Revan dissipated, leaving the Council and Revan's Lost Jedi to contemplate the Jedi Knight's plea.

As if to replace the silence that reigned in the chambers, Lance cleared his throat and spoke first. "Perhaps it is in the Council's wisdom that you dispatch your remaining Jedi Knights to aid us in this threat?"

"That is up to the Council to discuss," Cyrin retorted, his brow raised.

The Jedi General flexed his jaw, muttering under his breath, "I see not much has changed in six years."

Before the hard-as-nails Master could answer that with a biting reply of his own, Bastila chimed in, "perhaps you should rest first. The last few days have been difficult on us all. We can convene after everyone returns with a refreshed mind."

Lance bowed deeply. "I trust in your wisdom, Master Shan. Revan was wise to select you for his mate."

Bristling, Bastila chose not to reply.

Jolee, however, felt the need to. "It would be better if you kept your thoughts to yourself. You're still young—and you're making a big mistake with assuming anything regarding Revan and Bastila's unique relationship."

Bowing deeply again, Lance only replied, "my apologies."

On queue, the pair of hooded Jedi behind him removed their hoods, allowing the scarlet rays of Coruscant's setting sun to shine on them.

"Masters," Lance continued, taking a step towards the right—closer to Bastila. "May I introduce you to Commanders Sorak Voh'emp and Aerys Maurita."

Aerys, a pale and bald Umbaran female bowed, her oak coloured cloak following her every movement. "Greetings, Masters," she spoke softly, uncannily reminding Bastila of a pre-jawless Malak. It didn't help the situation anymore that she also bore similar tattoos marked on her scalp.

Sorak, an Arkanian, merely bowed, her long white hair hidden within her cloak and her white eyes blinking with an almost imperceptible radiance about her. Her pale skin was highlighted with a scar that ran across her right eye to her chin, adding depth to her rather unremarkable features.

Dante noted this with mild interest, his focus fixated on the human General who seemed more intent on listening to his own voice than heed what the Council requested.

Atton, as usual, watched everything with keen interest while displaying a surprisingly impartial expression. Years of developing a Pazaak face had come in handy. He couldn't help but feel an age old feeling in the back of his mind. The hairs at the nape of his neck had begun to stand up.

Surprised, the scoundrel had his gaze focused on Lance. He could feel something from the man, but he could not be sure what it was.

Lance definitely came across as someone who definitely didn't fit in the picture.

What's more, Atton found some recognition in the man's presence and face.

He'd been spending the entire time trying to place where he had seen him.

Old habits died hard, and Atton hated it when there was someone whom he recognized but failed to remember.

It often meant the difference between life and death.

Bowing, Lance answered the Council's request. "Very well, Masters, we shall leave to rest. I trust you will have an answer soon?"

With a casual wave of his hand, Cyrin answered, "we will inform you when we have an answer."

With one fluid motion, the trio bowed, turned and left the chamber.

Sighing, Ash glanced at the Cyrin. "I think it is time the Council finally did something about this war. I agree with Dante—we should begin preparations to finally defeat the Sith."

"You're forgetting, old friend, that we're not as high in numbers as we once were," Jolee interjected. He brought a hand to scratch his chin, his mind deep in thought.

"Nonetheless," Cyrin spoke up again, "the Jedi Order is rebuilding and Revan is right. If we are to bring balance to the Force—if we are to begin rebuilding at all—it must start with the destruction of the Sith, once and for all."

"But," Bastila said, her eyes shifting to the door where the trio had left but a few short moments ago, "it would do for us to ensure that we take the steps necessary to defeating the Sith. Like the Terentateks we've faced before in the past, the Sith may rise up in another number of years—be it a thousand or ten."

"And what steps are those?" Ash asked.

His ears lowering, Vandar finally spoke the thought that was foremost on their minds. "Walking the fine line between Light and Dark we are. Only few ever dare to tread it—and even fewer there are to talk about it."

* * *

It had been some time since the meeting—almost three and a half hours—and Dante couldn't sleep. His mind was focused on the past few weeks. Things had happened that had irrevocably changed his life.

This wasn't like before—not during the Jedi Civil War.

This wasn't a single half-crazed Sith Lord he was facing.

He was about to face a group of Jedi that far surpassed his skills, and yet his mind was still focused on Rena.

Clad in nothing but shorts, he sat up from his bed, leaning over the edge and wiping away the grogginess of sleep from his face. The moonlight shone over his defined body and tousled hair.

"How do I go about finding you when I can't trace my own homing device?" He muttered, finally rising and moving towards the refresher.

Leaning down towards the steel coloured sink, he threw his hands under the faucet and felt cool water splash over them. Raising his hands, he splashed the remaining liquid over his face in an attempt to wake him completely.

Much had to be done this night.

He could ill afford more delays.

It would only be a matter of time before Rena would either be tortured or worse.

Flexing his hand determinedly he stared into his reflection. _I won't let you down, Rena. I won't let you become another Rin—or Visas._

He focused on his face in the mirror, noting a subtle change. His eyes seemed more dull, his hair beginning to fade in its sheen.

Fingertips touching the reflection, Dante flinched.

He could feel the change that had come over him—even if it was minor.

His thoughts turned to the reflection. _If I can feel it, what about the others?_ Looking away, the Jedi already knew the answer.

"I have to move quickly."

Wasting no time, he quickly donned his clothing—simple dark robes—and he left his quarters.

He needed a lightsaber and quickly.

By dawn, Dante would leave for Rena.

With or without Atton.

Stalking through the silent and rather early night, he quickly made his way towards the training room.

Entering the room with the silent hissing of the doorway, he calmly and quietly moved towards a closet, ignoring the austere room and trying to forego the memories of when he and Rena trained on the white and brown framed mat.

His eyes rummaged through the number of lightsabers before him, giving him some time to pick a simple lightsaber that appeared no more than a holdout weapon if he had ever seen one. Looking around to ensure no one else was around; his thumb touched the small red activation plate, watching an emerald shaft of energy snap forth.

Quickly rolling the silver and bronze hilt in his hand, he thumbed the plate once more, ignoring the retreating energy. Grabbing another hilt—this one with a strange hook on its emitter that appeared to resemble a dial—Dante holstered both on his belt and made his way to the door, only to come face to face with none other than Windwalker.

"Master Ravenmoon," he greeted, a smile plastered on his face. "What a surprise. I was just coming here to practice my skills."

Dante nodded, _just what I need._ "Yes, well, I better get out of your way then, Master Windwalker."

"Lance," he corrected, causing the Jedi Knight to pause for a moment.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You may call me Lance." He ran a hand through his dark brown hair, while smiling sheepishly at Dante, who merely frowned for a moment.

"Well then, Lance," Dante said, smiling mirthlessly, "I shall leave you to attend to your duties."

Raising a hand to protest, Lance managed to delay the Knight again, who was growing slightly agitated. "If you don't mind my asking, Master Ravenmoon, what were you doing in the training room?"

Raising a brow, Dante merely replied, "that is none of your concern. Now, please don't disturb me again, _Lance_."

Almost as if it were a temptation, Lance blurted, "I thought that perhaps we could spar—I'm always up for a partner."

Exhaling deeply and attempting to center himself, Dante quickly replied, "another time perhaps. Now I must really get going." He took a few steps and added, "goodbye."

Scowling, the Jedi soldier replied, "good night."

Ignoring the other man, Dante journeyed to his quarters, sealing the door shut and quickly removing his newly acquired lightsabers and planting them on a desk in front of his bed. Removing a light source from his bedside, he quickly placed it over the desk and set himself to work.

He pulled a drawer back, removing a few components, and closed it shut.

With an expert's grace, he removed the safety caps on the lightsabers, and quickly unscrewed the sealants that kept the cylindrical weapons assembled.

Ignoring the depressurizing hiss, he quickly placed a small socket into the power cell, followed by a small doughnut shaped cap he placed just above the power input.

Quickly dismantling the other lightsaber, he removed the red activation plate and placed it in another groove just above the smaller holdout lightsaber he was working on.

Narrowing his eyes, the Jedi quickly snapped the pieces together again, removing the power cell and other vital components from the other lightsaber completely.

Casting the pieces aside, he sealed the holdout lightsaber and in one fluid motion, he rose, his thumb tapping the silver activation plate to witness the satisfaction of an emerald _snap_-_hiss_.

Dante brought his thumb to the washer and rotated it clockwise, taking in delight as he picked up one of the broken shafts from the spare lightsaber and watched it gradually turn to molten slag.

"Excellent," he whispered, deactivating the blade and placing the remainder of his components in a bag. Locking the washer shaped power distributor to keep it at its maximum setting, the Jedi Knight felt complete once more.

_Almost_.

His mind turned back to the past, remembering Rena and attempting to touch her through their bond but to no avail.

"I won't let you go," he vowed, his fists balled and his anger rising to the surface. He no longer cared about the perils of the Dark Side. His only goal was to see Rena unharmed and to be far from the Sith—clone or not, she was still the last link in his life.

Removing his clothes, he lay back on the bed, his hands cupping the base of his skull as he looked up at the bleach white ceiling. _I'm coming for you as soon as I find a way. I won't let you go and I will not let you become like the others. _

Closing his eyes, Dante's last thoughts were not of Rin or Visas, but of a deep meditation grove far off in the corner of his mind. There came violet blossoms that flew in the air all around him, and he had not a care in the world.

There came the arms of someone that wrapped around him, whispering and laughing with him, while unknown birds chirped in the background and the sun bathed them in warmth.

In that grove, Dante was happy.

His thoughts were of Rena.

* * *

The night air was cold and bothered him immensely, but he paid it no mind. He'd be paid a lot of money soon for shipping cargo from a Core World to the Outer Rim. Normally slaves didn't cost much, but for the quality and quantity of the ones that were soon going to arrive, Kadir didn't mind.

He looked at his partner, an older and much bulkier human man who smelled as badly as the fused engine coils in the ship's nacelles.

The older man scratched his scruffy chin, while a puff of smoke left the corner of his mouth.

Kadir didn't mind anymore.

Faden had raised him like his own kid and had taught him much about hygiene and money.

The Galaxy revolved around credits and whoever had the most was ensured a lifetime of freedom.

Rubbing his cold arms with his hands, Kadir looked at the man again, who seemed to take no notice of the younger man's exchange—or the cold for that matter.

Faden always seemed to fill Kadir with surprises.

"The night's just a little cool, that's all," he muttered under his breath, getting a hearty chuckle from the rotund man who towered over him.

"I've raised you since you were a kid in the cold reaches of space and yet you seem to always feel cold when you're planetside." Shaking his head and lighting up a new cigara, Faden finally glanced at Kadir. "Guess that's what happens when you live on a ship for 20 years."

"22," Kadir corrected sourly.

Faden flashed him a toothy, yet stained, grin. "Get back inside then—I can handle this transaction myself."

The younger man shook his head determinedly. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, old man," he replied. "You might need my help—remember what happened back on Tatooine."

Faden shook his head. "Forget about it, Kaddy. That was years ago."

Puffing his chest as high as he could, Kadir continued. "But those kids would have brought us a lot of money—especially since the Jedi Order wanted them."

Faden scowled. "Yeah, well, the Hutts seemed intent on wanting them—plus I scored us some extra cash from that iktotchi fella."

Kadir shook his head and scrunched his face up. "I will never seem to understand why he didn't want those kids to go to Coruscant, unlike those two Jedi."

"Yeah, well, tough break. That's the way of the Universe, Kaddy—learn it."

Kadir merely snorted as a reply.

Before Faden could mouth a reply, footsteps echoed throughout the large landing pad that was the Corellian Starport.

"Ah, here comes our client now," Faden managed before moving his hand lower to unclip his blaster—for safety reasons.

The figure that arrived was well hidden within the night's shadows and whatever shade came from the hood that covered most of his face.

"You have your weapon out," he said calmly, his dark cloak covering his entire body, save for his lips and chin.

"Yeah, well, it's for safety reasons—can't be too careful in this day and age, you know?"

The figure said nothing.

Kadir watched this with some trepidation, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. It all seemed familiar to him—almost as if it were a repeat of the Tatooine run a few years back during the Jedi Civil War. His hand went to his blaster that was strapped to his thigh. Removing it, he took a step forward to join Faden and the mysterious client in the conversation.

"So it's as we agreed?" The figure asked, his voice light and agreeable.

"Yeah," Faden growled, scratching his graying stubble. "That'll be about fifty thousand credits—all hard, none of this account crap."

"Hmph," the client replied, his thin lips turning up into a smile.

"What are you smiling about?" Faden asked, his brow up and cigara smoke writhing around the pair.

"And where's the cargo?" Kadir inquired, his brow furrowing. _Good thing you have me, old man—he doesn't look like he's going to pay us._

"Oh, they're here," the client said. "And you'll receive your payment shortly." Turning to leave, the client was stopped abruptly by a firm grip that caught his arm.

"I want our money _now_," Faden ordered, his voice hard. "And no funny business."

Turning around, the client's lips curled up in a mirthless smile. "Remove your hand—I will."

Faden's grip tightened. "No payment, no service."

"Fine," he answered, turning around. "But I warned you."

Kadir froze in fear, his eyes watching as the burly man went flying into the hull of their large and worn freighter.

Before he could say anything, an emerald shaft of energy shot forth and blurred to the right.

Faden's expression was one of mild surprise, pain and fear.

Kadir could only keep his eyes on the eyes of Faden, whose head now rolled to Kadir's feet.

In a panic the young man turned and raced into the cargo hold of his ship while its doors began to close, trapping the client and his cargo on the outside.

Knocking aside rusty cargo containers and spare parts that lay strewn across the floor, Kadir jumped into the cockpit, his hands flying all over the controls. His chest was heaving in a panic, hoping it wasn't too late to escape. With a fervency matched only by his will to live, Kadir opened a channel, emitting a distress signal while impatiently waiting for the lumbering ship's engines to start.

There came a slow mechanical whine from the stern of the ship, and Kadir could only whine, "come on! Come on!"

Almost as if to reply, the communication systems crackled to life.

"_This is Corellian Security, what is the problem?_" A voice spoke, almost as if it were CorSec's dispatching unit.

Startled and regaining his composure, Kadir quickly spoke into the channel. "I need help—my name is Kadir. There's someone trying to kill me!"

"_Stay calm_," the voice said, "_we will have a unit dispatched to you in a moment. Where is your location?_"

"At the landing pads," Kadir replied with desperation. He ignored the sweat coming down his face and he begun to hyperventilate. "H-h-hurry, I don't have much time!"

"_Just calm down, sir—stay with me_," the voice replied.

Before Kadir could say anything else, he felt the cold touch of metal against his temple.

"Call them off," the client said, his voice soft and quiet.

"_Kadir?_"

The young man continued to hyperventilate, his breathing growing shallow and quicker with each and every passing moment.

"_Hello? Kadir?_"

"Call them off," he said again, his voice hard and commanding.

Almost as if he no longer feared to his life, Kadir's breathing slowed down and he quickly depressed a button, his voice filled with a monotonous drone. "Everything is all right; it's been a mistake, officer."

"Good," the client said, the smile easily felt underneath that one single word.

"_Are you sure?_"

"Yes, officer—everything seems fine now."

Without bothering to hear the reply, the client quietly ordered, "now close the channel."

Kadir did as obeyed; an imaginary heavy weight pressed against his chest, compelling him to listen to the man's every command.

"Now give me the access codes to this ship."

Once more, Kadir did as he was told, his hands flying over the controls with an expert's grace. Planting a datapad into a slot located to his right, Kadir tapped a key and then said, "all access codes are on the datapad."

The client smiled. "Then you're no longer needed."

Oblivious to what the man said, Kadir sat upright.

The cool metal surface of the lightsaber sent the green energy out the other side of the man's temple, quickly retreating once the deed was done.

Holstering his weapon, the client turned to face a pair of dark clad Jedi. "Dispose of his body and unlock the bay doors. I'll inform our master."

Nodding to carry out his will, the client turned and left the ship, removing a small round holoprojector. Tapping the key, he was soon rewarded with another hooded figure, this one's features more pale and his nose visible from the hood.

"Tapping the key, he was soon rewarded with another hooded figure, this one's features more pale and his nose visible from the hood.

"_Yes?_" The Dark Lord Julius inquired.

"All is going as planned, my Lord," he reported.

"_Excellent_," Julius said, his thin lips forming into a toothy smile. "_Have the Jedi suspected?_"

He shook his head. "No, Master. It would appear that they believed the entire facility was destroyed—along with all of the raw material."

"_Then things are truly going as planned. How about the material?_"

"They're still raw and blank, but we can program them very soon."

"_See to it that they meet the rendezvous coordinates. The Galaxy shall watch as Revan leads our armies once more._"

"Yes, my Master."

"_The Jedi won't suspect the activation of weapon either. See to it that _those_ materials are sent to the testing grounds. We need to see if the ultimate weapon is ready. We can ill afford to make one mistake—our enemies are ruthless._"

"Yes, my Lord. I've already ensure that the other materials are en route to the testing grounds. These clones will be on their way as soon as I've finished this report."

"_Then see to it,_" Julius snarled, his image fading.

Pocketing the projector in his cloak, the agent merely quipped, "as you wish, Lord Julius." Turning around, he smiled widely, looking at where the fifty clones stood, just in front of the large bulky freighter that would send them to carry out their uses.

The Galaxy wouldn't know what hit them.

Neither would the Jedi.

The coming war was just getting started and already the Sith had the advantage. It would only be a matter of time before the Sith would claim the Galaxy as their own.


	48. At the End of All Things

_At the End of All Things _

The entire fleet had been orbiting the white world known only as Hoth. They had been there conducting repairs for the better part of four days. A fleet comprised of decade old warships from both the Mandalorian Clans and the Old Republic, Revan could only watch as the rest of the ships, both of his own design and initial Star Forge designs, rejoin the fleet and continue with the repairs.

_How could I have been so blind?_ He couldn't help but wonder, as his eyes roamed across the damage of a neighbouring vessel.

The Republic cruiser had been carbon scored with signs of recent battle, parts of its hull plating was missing.

Turning around, he returned to his large briefing chamber, an austere room with few furnishings to fill its spacious interior. Clad in his worn dark armour, he scratched his goatee and looked over to his right, observing the large table that was a holoprojector displaying the fleet's coordinates as well as the intelligence reports coming in to him.

The door behind him hissed open, quickly closing behind the footsteps that approached him.

His eyes were still focused on the table, watching the fleet deployment. He already knew who it was—he didn't have to feel her presence to know that she was there.

"Your reports as requested, Revan," she said in a crisp and clear voice.

Revan nodded, moving towards a chair at one head of the table, sitting down and resting his elbows on the table and cupping his chin in hands. "Why didn't I see it coming, Theresa?" He asked, his eyes meeting her own.

She sighed. "We've been over this time and again, Revan. You're not infallible. We're Jedi and we're fighting a war against bitter old enemies."

He grunted, turning his direction to a bottle and two cups. Removing its cap, Revan poured the amber liquid in the cups, filling them and sliding one across the table towards her. "Can't believe this thing survived after so many years," he said, twisting the cap on the bottle and lifting the cup to his lips. "To the effort," he toasted, before taking a deep swig.

"To the effort," she replied, taking a sip and ignoring the burning sensation that ran down her throat. She sat down on the chair before her, facing Revan at the other side of the table. "So, what is it this time?" She laid the datapad on the table, while the red holographic images filtered out the physical objects on the table.

After a moment, he casually moved his hand towards the datapad, feeling his fingers wrap around the cool metallic surface as it glided to him. "What it is, Theresa, is something that somewhere around this ship—this _fleet_—is a traitor. We've suffered from a bout of subterfuge for almost three weeks now." He let go of the datapad, ignoring the clank it made when it hit the table. "We've been at this for a long time and we're losing to someone who thinks the Sith will grant them their desires."

Theresa sighed, taking another sip and resting her cup on the table. Her eyes met Revan's gaze once more.

"We both know the Sith won't share power," he muttered under his breath. "I wonder if coming here was the right move all along."

"Enough," she said, her tone soft and quiet. "You can't keep blaming yourself for all of this. We didn't know what the Mandalorian Wars was going to hold for us and I certainly didn't expect us to change to rapidly. Now we're here—you've been given a second chance—and yet you're getting upset because of numerous setbacks?"

He shot her an angry glare. "These _aren't_ setbacks. In three weeks we've had our fleet ambushed, our base of operations destroyed and bombs go off inside our ships."

She took another sip. "Nonetheless, Revan, you have to get used to the fact that the Sith are adapting quicker than we had anticipated."

He blew hot air from his dried lips. "You're right," he conceded, his eyes looking over the fleet movements. "It's just been so frantic trying to remember whatever's left in my mind. The Jedi did their work really well, and it's not been easy watching the Sith counter the last two major assaults. We've lost a lot of good people, Theresa."

"I know, Revan," she whispered, tears were slowly beginning to form in her eyes.

"How's your friend?" He asked, looking deep into his cup and into the amber liquid.

"He's all right, but he'll need a replacement for his mechanical arm."

Revan chuckled dryly, "he's a tough one indeed. What was it they called him? 'The Mechanical Man?'"

"Bao-Dur has been my friend for a long time—and I couldn't have found you without him and the droids."

He nodded, swiveling his chair to look out at the large view of the planet below.

After a moment, Theresa joined his gaze on the planet. "Do you think the Republic is ready for this?"

He shook his head. "I can't say. I've left a few good people in charge, but you know how it is with politics. Carth will be doing his best as well as Bastila." Saying her name began to bring back memories of her. He could almost touch her skin; smell her fragrance that always seemed to be sweet and pleasant even under the most excruciating circumstances. He still had that bond, but he knew he would be too terrified to open himself up to that bond again.

Revan feared that touching Bastila again through the Force would make him want to return home and never leave again.

"She misses you," Theresa said, answering his hidden question.

"I know," he said, downing the last of his drink. "So," he said, rising to pour himself another cup, "how long has it been since your mister… what was his name again?"

"Atton."

"Atin?" He asked, surprisingly. "Isn't that Mandalorian for 'stubborn?'"

She smiled. "Oh he's stubborn, all right, but it's At-ton."

He shrugged. "You still haven't answered my question."

"It's been just over a year," she said, her eyes moving off to the planet again. Her mind turned back to that fateful night she left Atton. She had never wanted to leave, but when she saw him sleeping like that angel she knew existed underneath, she knew that she'd be doing this for him.

Even as she sat there, she couldn't help but wonder if his training had been finished. She was never one to leave those she cared about half-trained or feeling so lost.

"You'll get back to him," Revan said, smiling half-heartedly. In truth, Revan wasn't so sure anyone would make it out alive from this war. Julius was far too clever and despite the damage Revan had done, the Sith were still making their way back into the wounded Galaxy.

"You think Lance and Canderous made it to them?" She asked, lifting her cup as Revan poured her some more of the beverage.

"Canderous was never one to be late for war," he said, chuckling. "As for Lance, well, if he kept up his competitive streak with Canderous, then he definitely made it with the Clans." He went back to his chair. "Either way, we'll know soon enough."

After a few moments of silence, with the hum of the ship's engines filling the silence, Theresa looked back to Revan and asked, "so who is she?"

"Who?" He asked, pulled out of his thoughts.

"The one from your dreams."

He shook his head. "She's someone I don't know and yet I'm familiar with all the same."

She frowned. "A riddle?"

He took a sip, "I don't know."

"Is she dangerous?"

He shook his head. "No—in my vision she was protecting Bastila and…" he looked down, his shoulders heaving and finally sagging. "She was protecting my daughter," he finished, looking up to meet Theresa's gaze, his eyes brimming with salty tears.

"So this Rena is still a trump card then."

Wiping away his tears, he answered, "but I still don't know for whom. And I'm still having those other visions."

Her brows furrowed. "The one with the young man killing all of those Younglings?"

Revan nodded. "I don't know when that era might be, but there's no denying it: that boy _must_ be from my line."

"Revan," she said weakly, "you don't know if that will happen. That might never happen—remember what Master Vandar always taught us: the future is always in motion."

"The Dark Side is strong in this side of the Galaxy. It's forever creeping throughout the Core, and I fear even the Jedi might be too weak from the Wars to do much about it."

"We can only see what will happen," Theresa said, placating. "We'll catch the ones who did this to the fleet. We'll stop the Sith and ensure that future generations won't ever have this happen again. I promise you that, Revan."

He smiled half-heartedly once more. "That curse I bestowed upon you from Malachor?"

Theresa lowered her head. "Before she died, Kreia said that this was a _gift_. She said it could be used to kill the Force."

"But she never said how to heal you from it nor how to use it in such a capacity," he reasoned. Shaking his head with every bit of command, he said, "I refuse to use you as such a weapon. I'll never do that again. It almost consumed everyone and everything that I loved. I won't do it again."

She snorted, "we'll see what happens when the time comes, o mighty Lord Revan."

Looking at her completely for the first time in a long time, Revan could only say, "I'll make sure to pay for my past sins. I will find a way to heal you and we'll find a way to beat the Sith once and for all."

They both lifted their cups in the quiet toast and sipped it.

They both watched out at the ice planet, knowing it would only be a matter of time before they fought face to face with the Sith Council.

They would be taking this war to its peak and Theresa's wound was the key to ending the war against them.

The only problem was that neither Revan nor Theresa knew _how_ to unlock that power.

The biggest fear Revan had was that by using her wound against their enemies, it might cost Theresa her life.

He had no intention of watching the woman he had once loved die again.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Well, this is almost at it's complete end. We'll see what happens to our conflicted protagonist up next. I know this isn't much in the way of Revan and the Exile, but in the third and final installment of the Dante Ravenmoon story arc, we'll see Revan and Theresa in action. **


	49. A Past Long Forgotten

_A Past Long Forgotten _

_The chamber was filled with young children of many different species, ranging from Arkanian to Zabrak. _

_The window surrounding the room shone with the bright Coruscanti light of day, with miniature specks of vehicles moving in the distance. _

_The children were all clad in white robes and little white boots to match their attire. On their heads were large helmets with blast shields to cover their sights. In each of their hands were small cylindrical hilts with green or blue shafts of energy thrumming throughout the room. _

_In unison their little lightsabers moved to their left, blocking a small bolt of orange energy that was absorbed into their lightsaber. _

_Once more, in unison, their little arms shifted position, moving to the right and back to their chests to block the last two bolts that were absorbed. _

_Small round remotes hovered above the children, firing the bolts of energy, which the children still managed to block._

_Leading them was another figure, as tall as the children and yet so old and wise._

"_Feel the Force flow through you," he said, smiling as the children followed each and every command. Master Vandar couldn't help but find some pleasure when teaching all of the young children. He couldn't help but admire their keen minds and watch as they grew up to become full fledged Jedi that would do the Order proud. _

_Outside of the room, unbeknownst to the children who were training, stood a trio of Masters who observed the children moving with a grace that surprised even them. _

"_How does he do it?" A much younger looking Ash Merrick asked, his eyes focused on a particular little child who swung his lightsaber, blocking the bolt. _

"_Master Vandar seems to enjoy making the rest of us look like old fools," Alec jested, smiling widely. His short dark hair had begun to see signs of grey that was slowly creeping in. _

"_Who said he's making me look like an old fool?" Vrook Lamar asked, his brow rose. _

_Alec shrugged. "As far as I am aware, you refuse to teach children on principle. And who says I'm old?"_

"_Principle?" Ash asked, incredulously. "I thought it was because you make them cry, hard-as-nails Vrook Lamar." He grinned widely at the older man, who merely frowned. _

"_All kidding aside," Vrook began, clearing his throat, "there are a few children here who are noteworthy of your attention."_

_Alec crossed his arms. "Oh? Is the Council ready to let me choose a new Padawan so soon?"_

_Vrook shot Alec a look. "We know it has been some time since you've taken up another Padawan, Alec."_

_His look hardened. "Don't play games with me, Vrook. I won't train anyone after Matthias. You know that."_

_Ash quickly rested a hand on Alec's shoulder. "Calm down, Alec," he whispered. "It's not your fault that Matthias ran into the ambush, but he was a Knight for two years before it happened."_

_Inhaling deeply, the Jedi Master looked back at Ash. "And what would you say about Tarn? The three of us know exactly who the father is and were he to grow up and get killed in some ambush; you would feel the same thing I feel."_

"_He's a child and still has a long way to go." Ash replied quietly._

"_Enough of this, Alec," Vrook commanded, his voice stern and repercussive. "There is something you must know of one of the Younglings, in the least." Moving Alec back to face the window that separated the class from them, Vrook's finger pointed to a young child, who Alec could only make out as human from his small brown hands. _

"_What of this child?" Alec asked, his voice calm and his arms still crossed. _

_Clearing his throat, Vrook began, "his name is Dante. He has two brothers: the Ravenmoon twins."_

_Alec couldn't help but raise a brow and glance at Vrook. "Are you telling me that this child is related to Nathaniel and Xavier?"_

"_You're familiar with the twins?"_

_Alec nodded. _

_Ash took all of this in with the same keen interest as Alec was displaying._

"_I hear Masters Zan and Knor-Fel are quite pleased with those two. Their command of the Force may be a few levels below even Revan and Malak, but they're still quite skilled."_

_Vrook nodded. "Well, this young one here happens to be the last Ravenmoon."_

_Alec couldn't help but raise a brow. "What do you mean?"_

"_Master Nemo felt his presence a few years ago on an Outer Rim world known as Adumar."_

"_Adumar?" Alec asked, furrowing his brow in puzzlement. "That's quite some way from here."_

_Vrook nodded. "Indeed it is. Regardless of that, when Nemo found the boy, his parents had been brutally murdered and the child was left for dead."_

_Alec clenched his jaw._

"_Sounds familiar," Ash muttered. _

_Alec turned to look at Ash. "That's how a notable few of the Order were found—myself, Revan, even Vrook, just to name a few."_

_Vrook waved his hand in a dismissive gesture, "the point, Alec, is that this boy has no one to turn to and he has no true knowledge of his family or brothers here. He will need a Master in time."_

_Alec's countenance hardened. "Another Master would be better suited to him. Ask Nemo, I am sure he will be more than glad to train the boy."_

_Vrook shook his head. "Nemo has been sent back to Dantooine."_

"_The boy still has some years before Nemo returns," Alec countered._

"_No," Vrook insisted, "Nemo already has a Padawan. This boy is strong in the ways of the Force and at such a young age, he requires more special training."_

_Alec shook his head. "If you want another Revan, then I suggest you look to his Master."_

"_Alec, you've already been selected to be his Master," Ash explained softly._

"_The boy has a destiny, we all see it," Vrook said, taking a step closer to Alec. "Why won't you? You're meant to be his Master."_

_Alec leaned in, his blue eyes locked with the cold steel gaze of Vrook. "What are you saying? He picked me without my knowledge? I know no child to be capable of that."_

"_He didn't. The Council wants you to train this boy."_

_Alec looked at Vrook hard. "You will get your wish, Vrook, but do not think for a moment you're doing me a favour."_

_Vrook appeared to be relaxed and calm for a moment, taking in with smug satisfaction that he had won, at least for the moment. "In time you will come to trust this boy, Alec." Turning around Vrook left, followed quickly by Ash who was intent on checking in on his child. _

_Alec frowned and looked back at the group of Younglings who were training. His gaze was fixated on the young boy, who seemed to deflect the bolts with ease. Alec focused intently on the boy, taking care to note the boy's movements._

_The events racing back into his mind of the boy's familial history, Alec couldn't help but feel sympathy for the child._

_Unfortunately for the Master, he didn't hide his thoughts well._

_He watched the boy's head cock towards the semitransparent wall and hold his gaze there for a few moments._

He can see me_, the Master thought, realizing he'd distracted the boy for far too long._

_An orange bolt hit the boy on his backside, causing him to jump up and squeal._

_The children quickly moved out of the way and began laughing._

_From his hidden spot, Alec couldn't help but smile._ This little one's perceptive. _He sighed, and kept his eye on the boy, who now recovered and had a sour expression on his face. _

"_Maybe it is time I've moved on Matthias," he murmured. "I can only hope the boy doesn't have a fate similar to your own."_

_He closed his eyes, recounting the dark moment when Matthias had reported to the Council that he was en route to stopping the Exchange Syndicate member Goto. Unfortunately for the young man, Goto had anticipated Jedi involvement and laid several traps for the young man._

_It wasn't until Matthias had cleared through the last of the traps that he came face to face with the very thing that Goto was wanted for._

_A Jedi assassin droid._

_Matthias destroyed the prototype, but it had also claimed his life and the lives of three hundred people within a large housing complex in the Refugee Sector on Nar Shaddaa. _

_Alec sighed, his hand gently touching the scar that had recently formed along his face. He ignored the dull, throbbing pain. It had become something of a reminder to him—something that would remind him never to make the same mistake twice. _

_His eyes returning to the boy, who had now resumed his training, Alec couldn't help but feel the swirl of the Force around Dante. He could feel the furor of the building typhoon within Dante. _

I hope this boy's skill is as good as his brothers, even if they're not as powerful in the Force as he

_Alec couldn't help but smile at the boy. "We seem to be very much alike, Dante. Two outcasts with a family we don't even know about." He shrugged, watching the boy keep up his training. "I think I might begin to like you."_

* * *

Dante sat upright as he woke up. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with each and every moment he sucked in and exhaled precious air. Wiping away the sweat that had covered his face, Dante moved to sit at the edge of his bed.

"I knew it was him," he muttered, recalling what the Force showed him. For all of the years since that moment, Dante had been wondering whose presence it was that broke his concentration for a moment.

Shaking the memory and the last strings of sleep away, Dante rose and made his way back to the refresher.

"Alec never left me behind, and I won't let it happen to you too, Rena," he muttered. His mind had been on Rena for far too long.

Letting the water run down his body in the shower, he quickly made out a plan for his departure.

The Master knew he would be leaving and wouldn't return until after Rena and Revan were back with him.

The star pupil of Alec had been one of the few who were severely stubborn.

Dante knew exactly who would come with him. It would only be a matter of time before Atton would join him.

Quickly donning his black clothing, he threw his bracers in a bag, along with other components and belongings he knew he would need. Holstering the lightsaber on his belt, the Knight made his way through the dark hallways of the Temple.

Quietly entering a turbolift, he waited patiently as it came to his stop: the Hangar bay.

Stepping out, with his bag in hand, Dante walked through the dark room, his feet echoing from the ferrocrete floor. He looked around and began to look for something that would help him put quite some distance between he and the Core.

He knew Rena was as far away as the Outer Rim by now.

He could feel it.

The cool, scrubbed air touched his face, drying away the excess moisture on his face and hair. He ran his free hand through his hair, pulling the strands to the back as he continued his search.

Taking a few steps, he stopped suddenly and saw the Masters, including Atton, waiting for him by a sleek arrow-shaped Jedi courier. It was a similar courier vessel that he had taken when he attempted to board the _Krayt._

"We know you're going to leave," Cyrin started, "it was only a matter of time." He took a step forward, his eyes twinkling with something the young Knight had never seen. "This ship should match your needs, Dante." He bowed, "may the Force be with you in your search, Master Ravenmoon."

Dante returned the bow and rose to meet Cyrin's gaze. "And you too, Master Jace."

Not one for goodbyes, Ash merely bowed, and Frreral crushed Dante in a powerful Wookiee hug, forcing the Jedi Knight to gasp for air for a few moments after successfully reminding the furry Jedi of the necessities for life.

Leaning on a ledge near the ramp, Atton waved to Dante, "climb aboard when you're ready. I'm going to see what this baby can do." Turning around, Atton left Dante to his own devices, confident that the Jedi Knight would follow soon enough.

Jolee looked at the young man and shrugged, "bah, you don't need to listen to an old man's mindless drivel." Resting a hand on Dante's shoulder, he merely added, "I just hope you find what you're looking for. There's a lot more resting on the outcome than you could possibly imagine."

With the Masters leaving one by one, each imparting their own wisdom onto the Knight, there came only two Jedi Masters left: Vandar and Bastila.

The green, diminutive Jedi hobbled towards Dante, each step reminding the Knight of wizened Master's age.

Kneeling, in anticipation of the Master's coming counsel, Dante kept his eyes focused on Vandar, bearing witness to no great advice or forthcoming guidance, but to an old Master who should have kept a closer eye on a student.

Vandar sighed, closing his eyes, while his ears twitched and dropped lower.

Baffled, the he couldn't help but ask, "Master?"

Vandar finally opened his eyes and looked Dante hard in the eye. "To a foolish errand you run to. Beware the Dark Side, it clouds everything. When the time is right, find the balance between the Light and Dark you will—know what decision to make."

Taken back by the Master's cold, yet deeper meaning words, Dante rose and bowed, not even knowing why he was doing what he was. "Thank you, Master Vandar, for all of the training and advice over the years. I apologize for my rash decision, but I cannot fail my Padawan. I will heed in your words and I wish good fortune on you and the Order. May the Force be with you."

Nodding, Vandar hobbled away, muttering, "may the Force be with you too, Jedi Ravenmoon."

The engines had begun its slow mechanical whining, reminding Dante of the precious amount of time he was losing with each and every moment he delayed.

Bastila could only smile, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Bastila," he attempted lamely before he was rushed with the wave of emotions from the Jedi Master and her hug. Taken in surprise, he quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around her, caressing her back. "I'll bring him back," he said softly to her ears. He ignored the sweet fragrance of her skin and her hair. His mind was focused between the grim reminder of Rena's parentage and the sobs of Bastila. Squeezing her tighter, he vowed, "I'll bring Revan back to you, old friend."

Letting her go, he took a step back and walked around her.

The pitch of the engines' whine had begun to grow louder by the second.

Bastila turned around, one arm crossed on her chest, while the other wiped away the tears in her eyes.

Dante took a few steps on the ramp, his hand near the control switch to close the ramp. Looking back at Bastila, he nodded, entered the ship and made his way to the cockpit.

The courier began to rise on its repulsors, hot air whooshing from the engine as the ship began to turn towards the exit of the hangar.

Bastila watched as the courier quickly made its way out of the Jedi Temple and begin its arduous journey to find Revan.

It seemed only the night before that the Jedi Exile, Theresa Falcus, made her way to find Revan and join him in the war against a far more powerful Sith threat.

Bastila could only hope that she hadn't doomed any of her friends to their deaths.


	50. Epilogue

_Epilogue _

_As I watched her cry out for her long lost husband, I can't help but feel remorse for what I am about to do, despite the fact that Revan is my friend._

_Rena must come first, even if she is his clone._

_I love her and I know that as I continue to travel the stars in search of her, I will never give up hope that she lives. _

_I know that by listening to my feelings, I may have very well doomed the entire Jedi Order to its death. Somehow, it no longer bothers me as much as it once did. By allowing myself to feel from that very moment when I had met Jade to now, as a Jedi Knight looking for his apprentice, I can say that I've felt a great weight leave my shoulders._

_Perhaps Revan was wrong—perhaps there is no Unifying Force. All I've seen in the last twelve years has been nothing but death and destruction. It seems to be a cycle that the Galaxy has grown accustomed to. _

_I look out at the blue swirl of hyperspace now and yet, I feel something stirring within me. _

_Maybe Tulak was right. _

_Maybe opening my feelings and purging myself of sole Jedi training isn't the answer to fixing a broken and battered Galaxy._

_Perhaps I had been far too justified in the Jedi teachings to ignore the perdition we've opened the Galaxy to. Regardless of whatever doubt I have, what I know is that as long as we have the Force we're going to renew this endless cycle. _

_Maybe it's for the best that the Sith take over for a few centuries—or maybe it isn't. _

_I no longer care._

_Everything I've fought for—everyone I've loved and sought to protect—is now being tested. _

_The balance is something that must be attained from within before we can fully attempt to balance a Galaxy filled with eternal strife. _

_The Unifying Force is a failure and I will never look at it the same way again. It has blurred the lines between Light and Dark, of that I am certain, and though I feel nothing to this old quest, I can't help but feel that I am merely an infinitesimal being repeating an action that will be echoed for centuries to come. _

_I've come to find that there's a truth to the Galaxy: death is eternal, yet so is love._

_Both come hand in hand. _

_When I find Rena, I can only pray she will be all right. I know the Sith are filled with cruelty after cruelty. _

_When I find Rena, I will find Lotus._

_When I find Lotus, I will kill her and every single creature that seeks to separate Rena from me. _

_As a Jedi, I have sworn to uphold and protect life, though for years on end, I've willingly taken it without shedding a tear. _

_How can I slay people who have the chance to turn back to the Light and not shed a tear? How can I call myself a Jedi when I won't give them a chance?_

_Is it because there is no returning from the Dark Side?_

_Revan returned, though he had much help in the form of the Masters of old. _

_Apathy is something that I've grown accustomed to. It has made it a gradual ease to kill someone, look them in the eye and not feel any ounce of remorse or fear. _

_The first life I had ever taken has now long been forgotten. _

_There are hundreds of lives with which to replace the first._

_Apathy seems to be a void which eases away my pain, and as I continue to kill, so will my void. _

_If taking a life and being as far removed from emotion is what the Jedi stand for, then I am a Jedi. However, if no longer caring about the lives before me has taken away the very essence of being a Jedi, then I am a Jedi no more. _

_In my 28 years of life, I've seen enough to know that I can no longer go back to what the Jedi call the Light. _

_I am not jaded enough to become a Sith._

_I'm nothing more than an outcast because of a fool's errand so many years ago that cost me the life of my Master—a man whom was a father to me in every sense of the word._

_I'll continue to honour his memory, but I will never be a Jedi again._

_When I find Revan, I will help him fight against the Sith. _

_Before I can do that, however, I will go to Korriban._

_There I will find my future and my history._

_Tulak, my ancient ancestor, will show me the way to unlocking the true power of the Force._

_With it, I will destroy my enemies and devour the very darkness with that same apathetic void within me. I will touch my emotions and unlock the desperate creature that attempts to claw its way out. _

_By the will of the Force, I renounce my Jedi status and hereby welcome my family's legacy with open arms. _

_Light Side and Dark Side be damned._

_One way or the other, I will find Rena and destroy the Sith._

_My dreams have told me this._

_I'll be reaching my apex._

_Nothing will stop me._

_Not even the legacy of the true blooded Sith._

_

* * *

_**Author's Notes: Well, there you have it, the end to _Star Wars KOTOR II: Catharsis_. I hope that you all have enjoyed it thoroughly. With that said, I know I've left this very much open for a sequel. Watch out for the final installment for the Dante Ravenmoontrilogy that will arrive in about a month or so. With this out of the way, I hope you look forward to reading my many other fics. Once more, I cannot thank you all enough for the support and help that I've had with this story. I will always keep my eye out for your fics and drop a line when I can. Thank you all for giving me the chance to complete this story. **


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